


Harry Hagrid

by Zerox_Z21



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon - Book, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Found Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:41:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 111,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27940199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zerox_Z21/pseuds/Zerox_Z21
Summary: Instead of being abandoned at the Dursleys' doorstep, Harry is instead adopted by family friend Hagrid. Shameless fluff fic.
Relationships: Harry Potter & Hermione Granger, Harry Potter & Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Rubeus Hagrid & Harry Potter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! So, this is my first fanfic ever. Just over 3 years of very on and off work. Glad to finally have it finished! Since I'd rather finish it and upload it, as unfinished fics are a bit of a peeve for me.  
> So I haven't been around AO3 that much and mostly read (past tense) a lot of random stuff off of ff.net in my spare time. After the multitudes of so-and-so adopts Harry fics, fluff and otherwise, I thought, why not Hagrid? At least on ff.net, there are literally zero Hagrid centered fics that aren't... age inappropriate, let's say. Pretty disappointing turnout for the character. So I thought I'd try to fix that in some small way, at least.  
> I'd love any feedback you have to offer, being my first serious piece of writing since school, aha. Hope you enjoy it, and thank you for reading =]

“ **Well — give him here, Hagrid — we'd better get this over with."**

**Dumbledore took Harry in his arms and turned toward the Dursleys' house.**

**"Could I — could I say good-bye to him, sir?" asked Hagrid. He bent his great, shaggy head over Harry and gave him what must have been a very scratchy, whiskery kiss. Then, suddenly, Hagrid let out a howl like a wounded dog.**

**"Shhh!" hissed Professor McGonagall, "you'll wake the Muggles!"**

**"S-s-sorry," sobbed Hagrid, taking out a large, spotted handkerchief and burying his face in it. "But I c-c-can't stand it — Lily an' James dead — an' poor little Harry off ter live with Muggles -"**

**"Yes, yes, it's all very sad, but get a grip on yourself, Hagrid, or we'll be found," Professor McGonagall whispered, patting Hagrid gingerly on the arm as Dumbledore stepped over the low garden wall and walked to the front door. He laid Harry gently on the doorstep, took a letter out of his cloak, tucked it inside Harry's blankets, and then came back to the other two.**

**For a full minute the three of them stood and looked at the little bundle; Hagrid's shoulders shook, Professor McGonagall blinked furiously, and the twinkling light that usually shone from Dumbledore's eyes seemed to have gone out.**

“ Are ye – are ye  _ sure _ little Harry has ter go to the Muggles?” asked Hagrid, through a quiet sob.

Dumbledore glanced at Hagrid “...to tell the truth, it is not entirely ideal, no. However, here he will be protected in a special way from Voldemort's remaining loyal followers, in a way he wouldn't with any magical home that would be known to them.”

Professor McGonagall did not look pleased with that answer, “Is that the real reason, rather than your apparent concerns of his fame? Because I fail to see what a Muggle is going to do when the Death Eaters arrive for vengeance.”

“I am not at liberty to divulge  _ exactly _ what makes this Muggle home special. But I can assure you, it will protect Harry better than anywhere else.” replied Dumbledore.

“Even 'ogwarts?” Hagrid muttered, astonished. “I di'in't think anywhere was safer than there.”

The light in Dumbledore's eyes seemed to re-ignite, ever so subtly. He seemed to peer intensely at the house, and at the waiting bundle on the step, for a long moment, “...except there, perhaps, I will give you that, Hagrid.”

“If you're thinking what I think you are, Albus, then you'd better forget it. As much as I find these Muggles here...distasteful, there's no way any of us have the time to cater to young Harry adequately, and within Hogwarts no less!” hissed McGonagall. “Nevermind what the Ministry would make of that!”

Dumbledore idly twirled a a loop of beard in his finger, pondering the matter. Harry's safety was a significant factor in his insistence on bringing Harry here immediately; Hogwarts would arguably be safer, especially with so many eyes on hand. And Albus  _ did _ seem to recall rather...less than savoury accounts of Lily's sister from Lily in the past. Regarding magic specifically, no less. Whilst Harry might be safe from Death Eaters, and all other wizards, here, there was the possibility that the Muggles would not take as kindly to Harry as he would wish. So Hogwarts was looking more and more like the preferable option.

However, there was a couple of issues that needed to be overcome; one was who actually could be Harry's primary guardian at Hogwarts? The second was to make sure the Ministry was satisfied with his actions. It was easy enough to justify turning Harry over to his biological family, but this would be rather more unorthodox.

“ Those are valid concerns, Minerva. But I do feel that you are both right; Hogwarts would be better protection for Harry from those who would do him harm, and I do think Lily mentioned that her sister was not exactly enthralled with the magical world, seldom mention your observations today. And I am quite sure I have enough influence in the Ministry to see what needs to be done is done. That only leaves the rather small issue of someone to be Harry's guardian, who actually has the time to spare. I am not sure anyone wishes to abandon their students, nor do I think I have ready replacements on such short notice...” Dumbledore appeared to grow lost in thought as he focused on the issue.

Professor McGonagall stared as Dumbledore with widened eyes, “Have you gone mad, Albus?? What you're suggesting is near insanity!”

“ Any more than leaving Harry to Lily's closest blood relatives?” murmured Dumbledore, peering at McGonagall. She briefly looked affronted, then cast her eyes down, realising the truth of his statement. She  _ had  _ just been telling the Headmaster how awful they were.

Hagrid, meanwhile, had been rendered gobstruck that Dumbledore had even bothered to listen to him, and yet more amazingly, seem to  _ agree _ with his idea; that his idea had been good enough that Dumbledore would consider it so seriously. Dumbledore was a very great wizard, and would not entertain fanciful suggestions if they truly had no merit. It was then, as he watched the two teachers quietly standing there, that another idea seemed to hit him suddenly. Hagrid was uncertain as to the likelihood of him having two actually  _ good _ ideas in quick succession, but nonetheless, he wanted to help as much as he could.

“ Um, sir,” said Hagrid, hesitant to interrupt Dumbledore's thought process, who seemed to wake up and looked to him intently, “I'm no teacher, with no students to worry 'bout. I could look after little 'Arry, I'm quite sure I 'ave the time ter.” he suggested.

Dumbledore's eyes lit up even more now. He smiled intently at him, then met Hagrid's eyes with an intent gaze “Are you quite sure about this, Hagrid? This is a serious responsibility. Granted, you are ideally familiar with Harry already, and he you, but all the responsibility that was once the Potter's for his care would now be down to you. Are you ready, and certain, to live up to all that will be required of you?”

Hagrid's gaze fell upon the bundle waiting quietly on the doorstep for a long moment, then back to Dumbledore, uncharacteristically steely eyed now, “I loved all of the Potters like family, Headmaster, and Harry especially so now. I was so upset at the thought of leavin' him 'ere to these Muggles. I would do  _ anythin' _ to make sure he's well an' 'appy.” He nodded resolutely at the end of this statement.

Professor McGonagall remained quiet, observing; Hagrid might seem oafish and foolish at times, but his heart was always in the right place, the man was a force of nature unto himself. At first one would seem sceptical as to his abilities to care for such a young child, but then Hagrid was well able, and accustomed to, rearing small and delicate creatures at times; he was quite capable of the tender care little Harry would need. Looking past his outward appearance, he was probably the most ideal guardian remaining for Harry now. But then, a thought suddenly struck her. She rose her voice slightly, “Albus, a word please.”

Albus nodded gently to Hagrid as he moved over to Professor McGonagall, whilst Hagrid watched Harry from where they were stood. He leaned in to her so she could speak to him quietly, so Hagrid couldn't hear, “Before you say anything, I think Hagrid will do just fine with Harry… well, that's assuming he can even take care of Harry. Or have you forgotten that Sirius was made godfather? He will not be best pleased you gave Harry to Hagrid over him!” she muttered in exasperation.

A sad look came over Dumbledore's countenance, before it was replaced with a hardened one, “Shortly before I arrived here, having sought Sirius' whereabouts to clarify that the Muggles' home would indeed be a safer home than that he could provide, I discovered that he had been arrested by the aurors… for murdering Peter Pettigrew.” he said sadly. “I haven't told Hagrid just yet; he spoke kindly to Sirius as he tells us, and then came straight here on his bike. He will be most upset to hear the truth of Sirius' associations; right now is not the right time.”

Professor McGonagall was extremely shocked. Sirius had always been very boisterous to be sure, but she'd never have thought...it certainly wasn't the first time such an unexpected turncoat had made themselves known in this war. Albus was right, now was not quite the time to get emotional about such things as Sirius' betrayal, and Peter's untimely death. She stiffened her features and inclined her head towards Hagrid, indicating Albus continue.

Dumbledore nodded back to her, then came back to Hagrid, who now glanced concernedly at McGonagall “No need to worry, Hagrid. We both agree you will be an eminently suitable guardian for Harry, provided you take it seriously,” Hagrid nodded firmly at him, “Very well. Perhaps you should go and retrieve our errant Potter, and then you will make an Unbreakable Vow with me.”

Both the Professor and Hagrid seemed surprised by that, and looked quickly at Dumbledore, “Yes, I understand that it seems a bit extreme. But it will be the best way to ensure Hagrid's legal guardianship of Harry is secure; I will be able to certify the Vow at the Ministry, and thus the guardianship. It remains rather unorthodox, but I am quite certain I can make it work, along with Hagrid's known, prior close relationship to the Potter family. I would not ask for such a thing otherwise.”

Hagrid turned and went to retrieve Harry, stooping down and carefully scooping him up. The boy looked up curiously at the man he had been close to for hours beforehand, and smiled at him, pleased at the sight of a familiar face again. Hagrid smiled, and leant down and gave him a gentle (albeit whiskery) kiss on the head. It seemed to tickle, and Harry giggled quietly. Hagrid returned to the other wizards, looking very pleased.

Dumbledore extended his open right hand to Hagrid, looking quite solemn now. Hagrid adjusted his hold of Harry so that he was securely ensconced in the nook of his left elbow, and clasped the offered hand in return, meeting Dumbledore's gaze.

“ Minerva, if you would please do the bonding for the Vow.” asked Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall strode forward and raised her wand, the tip of which glowing dimly, but strongly.

Both wizards looked intently at each other, focusing intently. Dumbledore waited a moment, before beginning, “Rubeus Hagrid, do you solemnly vow to raise Harry James Potter, as if he were your own son?”

“ I shall.” intoned Hagrid firmly.

As he said this, a deep crimson wisp of fiery magic left Professor McGonagall's wand with a gentle twitch, and encircled itself around the skin of the wrists of the Vow makers, drawn to them like candle smoke to an open window.

“ And,” continued Dumbledore, “do you swear to protect Harry James Potter with all the means knowingly available to you?”

“ I shall.” repeated Hagrid.

“ And lastly, will you do your utmost to make Harry Potter's life, as happy and joyous as you are reasonably able?” finished Dumbledore.

Hagrid looked slightly stunned “O' course!” he said, a little too loudly.

Professor McGonagall frowned slightly at Hagrid's slightly uncomposed outburst, but nonetheless a further wisp of magic, just as bright as the previous two, left her wand to join the others in the network now glowing deeply in the wizards' hands. With a long, slow swish of her wand, the light glowed brightly for a moment, before disappearing entirely, leaving a slight burn-like mark behind.

The pair of wizards stood there for a moment. And then Dumbledore said, “Hagrid, you can let go now.”

Hagrid quickly released his clasp of Dumbledore's hand, before waving it about and exclaiming “Oh I'm ever so sorry Per'fesser, di'nt mean nothin' by it, I were jus-”

“ That's quite alright, Hagrid” Dumbledore said with raised hands, before placing one (with rather a reach) on Hagrid's shoulder. “You did marvellously, Hagrid. I'm very proud of you, I can tell you'll do a fine job with little Harry here.”

Hagrid's eyes welled up “I can' quite really believe it, all the same. Yer  _ are _ sure this is really a good idea?”

“ It's a bit late  _ now _ if it's not, Hagrid” scolded Professor McGonagall. “Unless you count both of us fools, then you'd better start believing it's a good idea. And soon, for Harry's sake!”

Hagrid had the decency to look rather abashed at that “Yer right, Per'fesser, yer right.” He looked down at Harry in his arm, who seemed to be dreaming contentedly now. Dumbledore and McGonagall both leaned in to see for themselves.

“ Oi'll take right good care of ya, Harry, you see that I don't.” Hagrid whispered quietly.


	2. Chapter 2

It was early morning. Warm sunlight filtered into the room through a window, and at this time had reached the head end of the single bed in the room. The bright rays caused Harry Hagrid, a young wizard, to stir.

Harry slowly opened his eyes, and sat up, rubbing the dust away. Harry was a healthy young boy, slightly tall for his age, and nicely filled out. He had a thick, messy tussock of mid-length black hair that draped down around his head, and bright green eyes.

He sat up and admired his room that he was so fond of. Oak panels made up the walls, with several 'corners' running the length of the room, like a giant stretched accordion.

Harry loved this room. It had been built by his dad just for him when he was barely the size of his hand, then extended several times as he'd needed it. The thick wood was old and tough, taken from deep in the forbidden forest, and enchanted by the famous Headmaster of Hogwarts with spells of protection, from frost and foe alike. Handmade shelving held Harry's toys, books and assorted knick knacks that he'd accrued living here. A large, rustic looking wardrobe and chest of drawers contained his clothing.

But today Harry was especially excited, of all days. Today was finally his 11 th birthday, hence he'd gone to bed early and opened his curtains to wake up at a nice early time; he was already practically twitching with anticipation to finally receive his Hogwarts invitation letter, to begin his proper magical studies. Birthdays were always exciting occasions, of course, but this one was particularly special.

With little warning, a loud shout came from the other side of his door, “Happy birthday, Harry!”, before it was pushed open by his dad. Harry grinned as he strode in with a tray of full English breakfast, and presented it to him.

“ Yeh excited, then?” asked Hagrid.

Harry mumbled something that sounded like 'definitely' through a sloppy mouthful of eggs and sausages.

Hagrid beamed at his son, pleased as always that he enjoyed his cooking “Well, I think I'll get my study ready for later, that is, if yer  _ sure _ you would'n' rather go to Diagon instead?”

Harry just shook his head, quite vigorously, in response, and continued shovelling his food away. He was constantly having to confirm and reassure his still hesitant father, and it barely warranted a spoken response at the best of times.

This seemed to please Hagrid, who left Harry to his breakfast in peace, and crossed the house to yet another extension, a large workroom. Hagrid was a very practical, hands on kind of man, and since he'd been officially pardoned to use his wand 9 years ago as Harry first displayed accidental magic, he'd involved magic in his craftmanship. So aside from the many sorts of things he had always made by hand, such as simple instruments, he’d expanded and experimented with many other types of craft, but one in particular was important today, and that was wandcrafting.

Wandmakers, despite their great importance to wizarding society, are rather rare. It is quite a specialised and difficult craft, and demand for the custom is low; wizards tend to use one wand for their whole, long lifetime, so it is simply not a financially practical line of work for many wizards to consider. Ollivander alone, since he had proven himself a highly skilled wandmaker, has supplied a high proportion of magical Britain with his own wands, as well as a few from other sources for the sake of variation. Eventually when ready to retire, Ollivander will select an apprentice to train and take over the business; Hagrid is quite unusual in that he is self taught, but then, he always has been in so many walks of his life.

Hagrid strode into the study, passing underneath a proudly displayed license, and began clearing the huge workbench. The study and workroom was a large, rectangular space, with a single, extremely heavy workbench that ran the entire length if the room, and various cupboards and shelving were arranged on the opposite side, displaying many objects, such as long boxes of various hairs and feathers, and jars containing blood and flesh in dark drawers. Then, after he’d finished tidying up, he turned to start spreading out some examples of his wand components. Largely this was still a hobby of sorts for Hagrid, but some testing from some of the teachers of the school had shown they had been quite serviceable after a while of practice, and later on remarkably useable. He was now at the point where he occasionally set up a temporary stall in Diagon Alley, and even sold a few to Ollivander, who though wasn’t prepared to train him, had offered some useful advice and his own, unusual brand of  _ encouragement _ . Hagrid quite preferred figuring things himself and creating new strides into wandlore anyway, though Ollivander was rather old fashioned and rather sceptical of Hagrid’s more unorthodox material choices. Hagrid’s proximity to the Forbidden Forest, the creatures living within, and those he is involved with besides, grant him an excellent wealth of resources potentially useful for wands.

Today was especially exciting for Hagrid, as he was again, trying something a bit new an unorthodox. As a well established wandmaker, Ollivander relied on creating and maintaining a large surplus stock of wands, so that a good match can easily be found without having to spend an inordinate amount of time custom crafting wands for each individual (and these are rarely appropriate for the user anyway, being chosen by wealthy clients, usually based on personal preference and ego). Hagrid realises he does not have this luxury, but still wants to do what he can for his son to make this special. So unlike Ollivander, Hagrid is going to try to see if Harry shows any affinity for the separate  _ components _ that will, potentially, make up a single wand. And  _ those _ , Hagrid has made sure to have plenty of for just this occasion.

Hagrid stopped his arranging as he heard gentle footsteps creeping up behind him. Harry tried to peer round the corner, before the door swiftly closed on his nose.

“Yer know better than to be snifflin’ around in ‘ere without my permission. Even if it  _ is _ yer birthday. You just wait a bit, Dumbledore’s comin’ to see yer try this out, y’member?” spoke Hagrid through the door.

Harry pouted as Hagrid came through the door, and closed and locked it behind him “Alright,  _ daaad _ . Is he gonna be long though??” Harry began bouncing as he followed his dad around the living room, only slightly creaking some of the floorboards; Hagrid had had to adjust these to be as un-creaky as possible all but immediately after Harry’s arrival.

Hagrid claimed himself his own breakfast portion, and sat at the central table with it, and a mug of tea. “I shouldn’t think so, naw. He seemed quite excited by today.  _ And  _ the wand experiment!”

“Oh? What else would be exciting for him today?” asked Harry, curiously.

“Why, yer birthday, o’ ‘course!” said Hagrid, “Isn’t it obvious?”

Harry just looked at the floor, blushing and grinning under his mop of hair. He always appreciated people that cared about him for some reason.

With a knowing look at Harry, Hagrid returned to his breakfast with a ‘hmph’. Fang, a large boarhound bigger than Harry, agreed with a deep sigh from the large fireplace, the stone pleasantly cool at this time of the morning.

Despite Harry’s fidgeting around the room with impatience, Hagrid calmly enjoyed his morning meal. Just as he was finishing up, a gentle rapping came from the front door. Harry promptly stood to attention. Hagrid ruffled his hair as he walked past to open the door. A psychedelic sight of technicolour greeted them.

“Ah! Just the man Harry was so anxious to see!” exclaimed Hagrid, waving the older man in.

“Not too anxious I hope.” Professor Dumbledore said. He walked into the room and beamed at Harry, who beamed back, maintaining his especially rigid, upright pose. “And this must be the handsome man I came to see today! I do believe I have something for you, actually...I don’t think making you wait any longer would be wise, now would it?” Thusly, Dumbledore drew forth an envelope with a flourish from his robes...or was it his beard? He was too quick for Harry to follow. Though Harry’s attention was all too quickly averted to the envelope he had been given. He looked at it with awe for a long moment, before he carefully peeled open the flap (so as to preserve the pretty wax seal) and slid out the long awaited letter. It read:

_ Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards) _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Dear Mr Hagrid, _ _   
_ _ We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. _ _   
_ _ Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July. _ _   
_ _ Yours sincerely, _ _   
_ _ Minerva McGonagall _ _   
_ _ Deputy Headmistress _

Harry slowly, but eagerly, read through the contents of the letter, and smiled up at Dumbledore “Thank you so much, sir! I’m really excited now!”

“I was led to believe you have been rather overexcited for some time before now, so should I be worried that you’ll explode, perhaps?” said Dumbledore with a wry smile.

Harry had the decency to look rather abashed, even though he couldn’t get rid of the smile off of his face. Then he ran up to his dad and gave him a great, big hug “I’m finally going to Hogwarts, dad!”

Hagrid hugged him back tightly, the tears pooling at the bottom of his eyes “I’m so proud of ya, Harry. And I jus’ know that you’ll make me proud, too” Hagrid sniffled slightly as he pulled back and ruffled his hair.

“I will, dad. I promise” Harry said in a surprisingly determined voice, a look of fierce concentration on his face, yet full of affection for his father.

Dumbledore watched the tender scene quietly, gently dabbing at his own slightly wet eyes with a handkerchief. He mused that things could almost have been so different, so very different, if Hagrid himself had not caused that last little moment of doubt. Such a sight did much to reassure him that he had made the right decision in the end. For both of them, actually.

Yes, Dumbledore believed that Harry’s inclusion into Hagrid’s life had made for many positive changes. In addition to, well,  _ encouraging  _ him to learn and refine many life skills through the challenges of parenthood, it had helped open several doors in his life as a wizard. For instance, he had legally been allowed to use his wand again. Initially, he had petitioned the need to do so as young Harry had begun displaying accidental magic, and it had been ventured that he needed some magic to help on those occasions. As this investigation was pursued, the alleged Chamber of Secrets incident was re-investigated. Now, the ministry was fairly bullheaded about undoing a fair punishment (in their opinion at least), but Dumbledore knew better. Whilst musing on this issue, Sir Nicholas (one of the resident ghosts of Hogwarts), once again insisted on waxing lyrical, this time to the staff table at breakfast, about his death and why the Headless Hunt were being unreasonable. Since it somewhat defines their existence, many ghosts have good memories of their death, and are quite willing to talk about it. And rather conveniently, Hagrid’s apparent victim was still resident. Myrtle Warren’s testimony, coupled with the knowledge of Tom Riddle (more commonly known as You-Know-Who, or Lord Voldemort) having been present at the school at the time, and Hagrid’s own testimony and admission of keeping an acromantula in the school at the time (culminating in the entire colony being removed from the forbidden forest), lead to a pardon of his involvement in that particular incident. So Hagrid was finally able to legally use his wand and magic, with Dumbledore and some of the other teachers helping him to learn and relearn various spells and aspects of magic. Though keeping his wand, repairing it, raising an acromantula and introducing a breeding colony to England were themselves criminal offences, they had been cleared to make up for the undue punishment Hagrid had been levied with in the first place, though not without a stern warning nonetheless.

Dumbledore was stirred from his thoughts by Hagrid touching him on the arm “If yer done daydreamin’, we may well be ready to try this wand thing out. Are ya ready?”

“I believe so, but.. ah! Just one more thing, before I forget!” Dumbledore said, before he once again produced an object from that uncertain place on his person. This time it was a rather larger parcel, that sagged slightly, indicating that the contents were soft and pliable. “Happy birthday, Harry! This is a gift from myself”. He offered to Harry, who took it from him somewhat gingerly. He looked up at the Headmaster, who smiled at him encouragingly, before he ripped the wrapping away from...some sort of old rag? Harry looked between his dad and the Headmaster bemusedly. Hagrid was eyeing the fabric cautiously, and glancing sideways at Dumbledore.

The old man laughed at their reactions, patted Hagrid comfortingly on the arm (who did not seem entirely sure how to respond to that), and knelt down before Harry.

“This item, was given to me by your late biological father, James Potter, many years ago” he began. “It is a powerful magical item that he lent me to study. Now that you have reached the age where you can be considered responsible enough to wield a wand, then perhaps you are also responsible enough for this to be returned to its rightful owner. As I’m sure you can see by your father’s expression” he gestured to Hagrid who continued to look mildly perturbed, “this object contains the potential for much mischief. I do hope I can entrust you to treat it accordingly, then?”

Harry nodded sincerely, though was still confused as to why a piece of old cloth would cause such consternation to his dad. “What  _ exactly _ is this? Do you not want me to have it, dad?” he offered it up to Hagrid.

Hagrid’s expression softened quickly from the sensitivity his son showed to his reaction, and gently pushed the cloth back into Harry’s hands. “Now, look here,” he said quietly, “the 'Eadmaster is right about this ‘ere cloak. You must be careful wit’ it, if you are foolhardy it could lead yer into danger. And it could be bad if the wrong sort got ‘old of it. You must remember that. But otherwise, it  _ is _ a birthday present, an’ you should be happy to ‘ave it. Just promise me you’ll be sensible?”

“Ok, dad. I’ll be careful. But I  _ still _ don’t know what this thing is!” Harry said, raising the cloth up and letting it dangle before him. It seemed to waver towards him, like static.

Dumbledore hmm-ed, and said “It is also an extremely old family heirloom to the Potter’s, far older even than me!” this made Harry giggle a bit, “so it is rightfully yours. And I think it’ll be more fun if you can figure it out for yourself. It is quite safe for you to experiment with”

Lifting the cloth as high as he could to inspect it, Harry could see it was still strangely attracted to him, like it wanted to be on him. Was it a magic scarf? Should he wear it? He lifted it to his head and wrapped it around like a sort of balaclava. He ended up covering his face, but found that the fabric was suddenly quite transparent when worn in this fashion.

He looked to his dad to gauge if he’d got it right, only to see that he was gawking at the sight. Dumbledore had a huge grin plastered to his face. So maybe not quite right. He removed it again (which seemed to revert his dad back to normality), and tried draping it over his whole body instead. It clung to him, quite firmly so it wouldn’t fall if he moved about, yet it still felt light and air, uninhibiting, and rather curiously, he felt a strange sense of freedom under it. The two adult wizards look much like they did before, so they were no help. Animals, however, were often more level headed. “Fang!” Harry called, “Come and see what this is!”

The great hound raised an ear, then his head, then got up and stretched languorously. He heard Harry continue to call to him, almost as if he was in the room. But where? He sniffed the ground, finding old scents, and following the faint trail and sound until he bumped into something, but yet there was nothing? He heard Harry’s voice again, quite exasperated now, right in front of him! But he was not there! He sniffed intensely, searching, and probed his nose forwards. It made contact with a warm, clothed body, but there was no smell or sight there. Greatly confused, he drew in deep sighs, and pressed his nose around the mysterious surface. Still unable to figure out what was happening, Fang sat back on his haunches, and whined.

Harry looked at Fang, bemused and confused. What an odd response! There really must be some magic on this cloak if a dog couldn’t seem to find him! It was almost as if he were-

No. Surely not? Such a feat was thought borderline impossible, and yet...it made sense with what he had been told. Harry drew off the cloak (Fang barked in surprise, and Hagrid told him to sit still a moment), and wrapped it around his arm before him. Then it was gone! Quite thoroughly. This must, indeed, be a true invisibility cloak. He didn’t even think such things existed.

Meanwhile, both Hagrid and Dumbledore had been struggling to contain their laughter at Fang’s confused attempts to find Harry. They attempted to sober themselves, and Dumbledore spoke to Harry “Now that you have discovered what this artifact is, I’m sure you can understand what we told you about it? This is the only cloak of  _ true _ invisibility I have ever encountered, seldom one that has lasted for centuries, at the very least.”

“It’s that old?” exclaimed Harry.

“Indeed it would seem so,” answered Dumbledore, “the Potter family could trace it as a gift of inheritance many generations back. Beyond the age of their name, even.”

“The Peverells,” Hagrid added, “tha’s what James told me.”

The room was silent for a moment as Harry contemplated the mysterious cloak. He scratched Fang’s head as a sort of apology for confusing him earlier, while the adults mused on the lost Potters. It certainly had some amazing potential. He could explore the forest and get close to shy or dangerous creatures to observe them. He could sneak around places he shouldn’t go. But therein these things lay the potential danger; he could get in serious trouble if caught out by losing the cloak somehow at an inopportune moment. For now, he retired to his bedroom to find somewhere safe to hide it. He tucked it away under his clothing in the trunk at the foot of his bed. Then he returned to the main room, where the adults were still lost in their thoughts.

He stood for a moment before deciding to remind them what day it was. He went over to the door to his dad’s study and began fiddling with the door handle.

That snapped Hagrid out of his reverie “Oi! Let it- alright, alrigh’. Let us jus’ make sure everything’s ready for ya.” Harry beamed back at him in response, and ran and sat neatly at the table eagerly. Dumbledore smiled and gestured for Hagrid to enter the study first, then followed him in.

Closing the door behind the Headmaster, Hagrid spoke offhandedly “Harry’s so excited, I sure ‘ope whatever I can do lives up to his expectations.”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled with anticipation as he cast his gaze about the room. There was a wonderful assortment of materials spread about the work surface, many unconventional with hitherto unknown potential as wand cores. Hagrid was really trying something quite new and unconventional, and today’s experiment was dreadfully exciting in that regard. Hagrid went before him and made last minute adjustments to the spacing of the items. “Hagrid.” said Dumbledore.

“Yes, sir?” said Hagrid, turning his head.

“I am quite certain that you have nothing to worry about whatsoever.” He smiled pleasantly.

Pleased at the reassurance, a more visibly relaxed Hagrid returned to the table and finished pushing things about; not all he did so with his bare hand, but with a pewter cauldron stirrer.

The Headmaster strode over and peered at the assortment layed out. He looked carefully at one particular hard-looking item “I sure hope that this isn’t erumpent horn, Hagrid.”

Hagrid raised his head and glanced over, then carried on “Nah,” he said “learnt not to use that for wands the ‘ard way.”

Dumbledore had the grace to look appalled, but refrain from further comment on that bit of experimentation. Good thing he had the sense to keep his son out of here most of the time.

Hagrid mumbled to himself over the desk “...‘m sure I coul’ if I jus’..”

“Pardon me, Hagrid?” said Dumbledore.

“Oh, nothin’!” said Hagrid. “Just hummin’ to meself.”

Dumbledore eyed him shrewdly. Maybe Harry should just be kept out of this building entirely, he thought. Hagrid wisely decided not to draw any attention to the suspiciously extra heavy duty strongboxes tucked away at the far end of the room.

Taking a step back, Hagrid stood up and cast his eye over the entire workbench. Everything seemed to be ready. He continued looking at it, watching for anything out of place. This went on for another minute before Dumbledore spoke up “Well, we must be getting on, Hagrid. I’m sure Harry will explode with anticipation if you keep him waiting much longer.”

Not needing to be reminded twice about Harry’s accidental magic mishaps, Hagrid seemed to make up his mind that everything had in fact been ready for some time, and went back out with Dumbledore to see Harry sat with Fang on hearth. The young wizard promptly stood up, expectantly waiting.

“Right then, ‘Arry!” boomed Hagrid, “Do ya remember how wizards  _ usually _ get their wands from a wand shop?” he asked.

“I think so.” said Harry. He pondered a brief moment, then said “You don’t choose the wand yourself, do you? It chooses you? How does it do that?”

“Well, usually the wand maker sizes you up, then tries you out with ‘is stock until one o’ them gives a good, strong magical response to yer.” replied Hagrid. “But maybe the best wand in the shop, isn’t the best wand that could be made for yer? Ollivander only uses the same few ingredients that  _ he _ thinks are the best. They’re  _ are _ good for a reason, but maybe fer some of us we could do better. So instead of wands, I wanna try to get yer to feel which of my wand ingredients would be best for yer, instead. What do ya think o’ that?” he asked.

“I think it’s a  _ brilliant _ idea!” exclaimed Harry, waving his arms about.

Hagrid beamed with pleasure. “Now, the on’y thing, is that it might be a tad trickier to see what’s goin’ on with just the raw parts before I make ‘em up into a wand. So you’re really gonna ‘af to feel the magic for me, alright?” he said.

Harry gave him a cheeky thumbs up.

Hagrid stepped up to Harry, and withdrew a black cloth from his pocket. He then draped it down over Harry’s face, and began to tie it round the back of his head. Harry blurted some sort of spitting noise in confusion.

“This is to help yer focus, and so you don’t show no bias with my ingredients. Keep ya honest. So the only thing yer judgin’, is the magic you feel. Okay?” explained Hagrid.

“Mmf.” said Harry. The intended blindfold covered most of his head. Hagrid saw his mistake and pushed the cloth up over his nose. “Yep.” confirmed Harry.

Dumbledore opened the door to the workshop ahead of them “If we’re ready to begin then, gentleman..”

Hagrid laughed out loud, and guided Harry towards the door with a hand on his shoulder “I think yer more eager for this than ‘e is, sir!”

The Headmaster closed the door behind the three of them. The room was silent a moment. Magic seemed to hum through the room, seemingly built up from Harry’s anticipation. Hagrid pulled out a bench, adjusted the mechanism to raise its height right up, then carefully lifted Harry by the waist onto it. Dumbledore remained at the back of the room, casting a curious gaze about the room; he was only here to observe and indulge his academic sensibilities. He certainly had noticed the magic permeating the atmosphere of the room; were the objects on the table somehow reciprocating? Magic was such a curious thing.

Hagrid opened a draw beneath the bench to retrieve a quill and parchment. He pointed his wand at it, and they lifted to the air. They would note down what was said over the duration of the exercise. He then took Harry’s arm, physically showed him the height of the table, then raised it several inches above the surface. “I’ll guide yer to each object, as it were, and then you need to feel fer the magic in it. If you can be gentle, push a bit with yer magic so it can respond to yer. We’ll start with shafts, no ‘arm tellin’ yer that.”

“Do you mean the long bit? Why don’t you just say wood?... You’ve got some that aren’t wood here?” Harry gasped slightly, surprised.   
“And that,” Hagrid gently tapped Harry’s head with his free hand, “is why yer blindfolded. One type of wood might be best for yer anyway, I don’ want yer pickin’ summat differen’ just cos it’s differen’.”

Hagrid firmly directed Harry’s arm over the first possible shaft. “Shaft number one.” Hagrid enunciated clearly, for the quill to note down. “Now tell me what yer can feel, Harry, an’  _ how _ yer feel if ya like.”

Harry shut his eyes (not that it made much difference, but he did anyway) and concentrated on the feeling of magic, as vague as that was. He concentrated on his hand, how it tingled, and what was beneath it, and whether it was doing the same. Eventually something seemed to react to his gentle probing; he felt a warmth rise up from the table. Airiness, movement, some more intense heat. “It feels really warm, kind of like a candle.” Harry said. “Like air and freedom.” The quill scratched gently for him. “I think I like this one.”

Hagrid glanced down at the table, as the professor leaned from the corner for a look. It was a wing bone of a young Welsh green dragon, which glowed a very gentle orange tinge on the table. Neither said anything, and Hagrid moved Harry’s arm on.

“Thanks Harry, that was good.” Hagrid quietly encouraged Harry, before declaring “Shaft number two.”

Harry probed with his magic again. The response was a bit quicker this time, and Harry responded quicker to match the incoming sensations “This one feels quite reliable I think? And it feels very much like… it’s growing? It’s also a bit tingly - like static.” This time the shaft was taken from a very old oak tree. “This one’s nice too, but not in the same way.” This time a slightly stronger radiance of an almost white light emanated from the wood.

Hagrid nudged Harry when he seemed to be finished, to “Shaft number three.”

This time the wood was from a relatively young goat willow. “...don’t really like this one much.” said Harry. “It feels kinda like it’s happy and sad at the same time. Bit weird.”

And so they continued round the table in like fashion, some shafts more receptive than others. Interestingly, additional samples of the same material, but from different sources, yielded somewhat different responses to Harry, as if they had unique magical signatures, or personalities.

Despite some good responses, nothing seemed to be quite as ideal a match as Hagrid has hoped. Was this because they were only testing a single component, that would never respond as strongly as a complete wand? Were there better matches than they realised, or had he not collected a wide enough array of samples. Hagrid sighed internally after shaft number 52 was declared to merely be “A bit flat” and moved on.

Now they had reached “Number fifty three.” as Hagrid intoned.

Harry went quite still as his magic touched that of the shaft. This one was taken from the root of an ancient yew tree. It thrummed a deep crimson. “This one.” Harry said. Silence reigned a moment, before Dumbledore chimed in, “Can you tell us anything else about this shaft?”

Harry focused intensely; other than the initial and obvious connection, he didn’t actually gather a great deal in terms of feelings he could put into words. “I don’t know the words for it.” he said. “It feels a bit like, sort of twisted up, but...but I definitely... _ like  _ this one more than the others.”

Hagrid frowned a bit. “Can yer tell me what yer mean, exactly. If ya don’ like it...”

“I do.” affirmed Harry. “It’s just that, it feels like it  _ likes _ me, more so than any of the others. That must be a good thing, right?”

“Mmhm.” said Hagrid quietly, before guiding Harry’s arm on. He hadn’t quite expected something so austere to occur, and he felt unsettled. But he was internally pleased that a shaft alone could yield such a good response, even if yew was an unusual ‘choice’. Even the muggles can be a bit uneasy around such trees, being strongly associated with death. Modern muggles seem to have forgotten how life is also an equal part of it, so the tree is not to be feared. It does perhaps, however, warrant a certain respect.

They tested the remaining shafts Hagrid had laid out, but none seemed to match up to the yew in terms of compatibility with Harry. Hagrid put away the quill and parchment, and took out a fresh set for the wand cores that they were due to test next.

“Yeh ready fer the next bit then, Harry?” Hagrid asked. Harry smiled and nodded politely back, and lifted his arm to show he was ready.

“Core number one, then” Hagrid said as he guided Harry’s hand over a pile of sea serpent scales. They glowed a dim navy.

“Quite good. Makes me feel a bit like I’m...swimming? That’s weird.” Harry said. Hagrid took his hand and moved it to the next maybe-core, a sphinx feather.

Harry focused a moment, but the feather lay dormant. “I don’t think it likes me much,” Harry said. “I don’t like it either.”

Like the shafts, this continued in a like fashion for a time. So far, a feather from Fawkes, Dumbledore’s phoenix, had yielded an especially strong response and was looking the likely candidate. Harry’s hand now hovered over core number 37. The long, silvery-black hairs glowed a brilliant white.

Harry focused intently, enjoying the strong feedback. It was at least as good as number 22 had been, so he concentrated; he wanted to pick the right one.

“This one’s maybe even better than twenty two!” Harry exclaimed quietly. “It likes me too. Hard to describe again, though. Quick, focused, but also gentle I think?”

Hagrid nodded, patting Harry’s shoulder, and silently guided him on. Despite more good matches, numbers 22 and 37 seemed the most likely candidates. Hagrid separated them from the rest, and explained to Harry how he wanted a more direct comparison to be sure; inwardly he wasn’t certain that a multiple core wand was a good idea, or likely to be all that effective without diluting useful properties as they effectively ‘compete’. Harry lingered a moment between the two cores, trying to feel out which was preferred, before swaying towards 37.

“Right then.” said Hagrid. “Seems that that’s that. I’ll put your choices aside for later, I bet yer tired of that blindfold by now.” The three wizards went quiet as the atmosphere of the room lightened, their hard work now complete. Harry sighed in relief at the proverbial weight being lifted from him, and the thought of using his eyes again. His dad guided him from the room, and removed the makeshift blindfold as Dumbledore closed the door behind them.

Blinking for several moments as his eyes readjusted to the light of the room, then grabbed the lower fringes of his dad’s beard excitedly “So what did I pick? What’s my wand like? Why do you think I-” he was shushed with a large finger over the mouth. “I ain’t sayin’ jus’ yet.” Hagrid told him. He shook his head and pressed his finger down again as Harry tried to speak again, “I still want it to be a surprise, I have yet to put it together!”

Harry pouted a bit, but then brightened up, remembering the excitement of having his own special wand, then gave his dad a tight hug “Thanks so much, dad. It’ll be the best birthday present ever!”

“Better than mine?” whined Dumbledore.

Harry looked aghast, then grabbed Dumbledore’s beard, wringing it a bit nervously, “No, s’not that- it’s, I mean-” Harry whimpered.

Dumbledore burst out laughing, and ruffled Harry’s hair “Oh dear Harry, I am merely jesting. Though it touches my heart that you care for this old coot’s feelings so.” He straightened up, smoothing out his beard again with his wand. “Now if you don’t mind, gentlemen, I must get on. I do appreciate the invitation Hagrid, the process was very enlightening. Care to escort me out, Hagrid?”

The two men left Harry sucking on a chocolate frog, and stepped out the door. Dumbledore indicated to Hagrid to close it.

“So, what components did Harry choose in the end? I’m afraid I couldn’t quite be certain as to what they were.” Dumbledore asked.

“The root wood from an old yew tree in Fortingall, and the tail hairs from Tenebrus, from our thestral herd. I coulda swore he gave ‘em to me on purpose, just the other day..” Hagrid said. A moment of silence passed. “Yer don’ think it  _ means _ anythin’, do yer?”

“Whatever do you mean, Hagrid?” Dumbledore asked.

Hagrid worried his hands slightly “Well, there’s all these superstitions, ‘bout death, for both the yew and the thestrals. Very misunderstood, the thestrals are, an’ the yew an’..”

“Enough, Hagrid,” Dumbledore raised his hands placatingly, “I quite agree that there is nothing to be concerned about. There is much superstition, but that is all that it is. You have hardly keeled over and died from maintaining the thestral herd, have you? And the Forest has several yews within it also, that don’t do any harm to you or the inhabitants. Harry is a healthy, happy little boy, I do not envision him being a harbinger of death. And I very much doubt the wand parts are divination experts, either.” Dumbledore clasped Hagrid’s shoulder, who let out a deep sigh and drooped. “Yer righ’, it’s just-”

“Not what you expected?” finished Dumbledore. Hagrid nodded.

Dumbledore closed his eyes in thought. “It may very well mean  _ something _ ,” Dumbledore finally said, “but what exactly I couldn’t say. There is much we don’t know about magic, and the magic of wands particularly. It could mean many things, or nothing at all. Either way, dwelling overly on the matter is most unhelpful. So don’t worry, alright Hagrid?”

Hagrid breathed deeply, and nodded “Thanks, 'Eadmaster. Yer right, I reckon.”

They both glanced to the Forest. Tenebrus could be seen loitering at the tree line nearby.

“Well then,” said Dumbledore, “I really must be off. Thank you again for allowing me to observe, it was most fascinating and it has given me something for my mind to mull over. However, I really must be going; Cornelius was quite anxious to speak to me. I will see you later in the evening!”

“Bye, eadmaster!” Hagrid called as Dumbledore walked swiftly back to the castle. Tenebrus came over and nuzzled Hagrid’s jacket, who absentmindedly withdrew a dead rat and flung it back towards the forest. The thestral lunged, snatching it from the air, and whinnied his thanks as he returned to the shade of the trees.

The door opened behind Hagrid, who turned to see Harry sucking up the last leg of his frog, looking around eagerly. His eyes saw what he was looking for “Here, Tenny!” he called. The thestral’s ears swivelled, and it turned and trotted back to Harry. Harry caught his muzzle and gave it a good scratch down the ridge of its nose. “Everything ok, dad?” he asked.

Hagrid was startled out of his stupor “Oh, yes, o’course, jus’ thinking, y’know?” Hagrid took the opportunity to unfurl Tenebrus’ wings for a quick inspection. All seemed to be good. Hagrid mused briefly “I might go check on the rest of the ‘erd, Harry. We got a while ‘til dinner, so..”

Harry didn’t need telling twice. He tweaked Tenebrus’ shoulder, who knelt down so Harry could mount him. Then he rode up alongside his dad, grinning broadly.

Hagrid shook his head, ruffled his son’s hair and Tenebrus’ ears (what a pair they made!), and they walked together into the forest. Harry did like the thestrals, but got on especially well with Tenebrus. Maybe, as far as the wand went, that’s all there was to it.


	3. Chapter 3

The potions master of Hogwarts, Severus Snape, relaxed in his study.

As a joint birthday and coming-of-age celebration, the faculty were having a dinner party for one Harry Hagrid. The preparations were largely complete (and almost entirely conducted by the house elves, besides), so Snape was taking the opportunity to clear his mind before the hysterics of an 11 year old child and the rest of the faculty took their toll. At times he thought they were quite mad. Minerva especially.

Not that Harry was a problematic child at all. He was surprisingly well mannered, polite and intelligent for one primarily raised by the groundskeeper, though the staff had all had their little bit of influence over the years, given his proximity to them. But the fact remains he is an 11 year old boy, and as is their wont to do, can be a trifle melodramatic.

Snape wondered how Harry would be to teach this year. So many dunderheads came and went through his potions classroom, but there were enough who actually showed talent and focus for the task. He did not expect Harry to be a particular problem, unlike the latest Weasley that would likely grace his lessons. Most years there’s a new model, though unlike most innovations of man they seem to be downgrading over the years.

As far as children went (which isn’t saying much) Snape was almost  _ fond _ of Harry. He remembered meeting him for the first time, nary 10 years ago. After he had settled into the  _ shack _ (now mercifully improved upon), Hagrid had invited the faculty to meet his charge, expecting that he would be seeing them semi-frequently in the future. Snape had been strongly apprehensive; he was still very new on the staff, who were leery of him, but nonetheless he had been roped in by Dumbledore anyway. Snape’s experience with babies had been rather limited prior to this point, and he had not expected something quite so small. It was still clearly underdeveloped compared to the form it would take as it grew, so facial features were hard to distinguish- but then it had fixed him with those damning green eyes, the only obviously inherited trait other than hair colour at this stage. At the time he’d wondered if Dumbledore had known how significant they’d been to him, and wondered if it was some demented trick to twist the proverbial knife in him of ‘she’s dead and it’s  _ your _ fault’. But then he’d realised that that was highly unlikely, and that such feelings originated from his own psyche. Even as Harry had matured to look more like James (sans glasses), though not without other, more subtle facial features of Lily’s, the eyes had always been the foremost thing in his mind, reminding him of where this child had come from, and what was important. To boot, it had not been James who had reared him, and Hagrid was a good ally to have (both found a mutual exchange of potions ingredients useful, though Hagrid tended to try to hatch them); Harry had none of the mean streak the young  _ Potter _ had had. Snape wondered if he’d treat Harry differently if he hadn’t been proximate to him during his growth, nevermind what sort of state he’d be in if that trout  _ Petunia _ had ended up with him, heaven forbid. Harry would have been either a petulant spoilt brat as he’d first expect, or upon musing on her reactions to all things magical, a scarcely recognisable waif not dissimilar from himself at that age. Such thoughts were merely mental exercises and an observation of one’s own character, but Snape often indulged in them as he was not the most talkative person during mealtimes.

Snape decided to stop there, lest he be rudely interrupted as dinner time was approaching. Right on cue, a house elf (Pibbly, was it?) popped in to inform him that his presence was requested. Snape acquiesced, and made ready to leave.

~~~

The two Hagrids were almost ready; they had washed and put on fresh clothes for the party this evening; Harry wearing a deep crimson robe with black trousers, and Hagrid’s covered up by his usual leathery overcoat, though recently scourgified. Hagrid was just finishing brushing Harry’s mop of hair (this was all but a waste of time), when a bright patronus came through the door. It coalesced into a cat, and said “We’re ready for you. Use the floo destination ‘Hogwarts Headmaster’s Office’, followed by the password ‘Harty Pagrid’” before fading away. It was clearly sent by Professor McGonagall.

“Fancy.” said Hagrid “Saves us a trip...sorta. Right, Oi’ll go first, Harry. Make sure you speak clear, alroigh’?” Hagrid preferred to go first these days, after a trip through the floo to Diagon Alley had lead to finding a young Harry being accosted by over eager patrons, desperate to get a glimpse or a handful of the famed Harry Potter. Hagrid was quite sure he’d left a lasting impression on them, but one can never be too careful.

“Yeeess, daaad” Harry drawled. As if he couldn’t speak clearly when using the floo, what was he, 9?

They both stepped up onto the hearth, extending into the room as a base for cauldrons and large cooking preparations. Hagrid took a veritable scoop of floo powder from a pot shelved near the fireplace, and threw it in so that the flames turned a bright green. He hunched into the fire, and spoke his destination and disappeared.

Harry then realised that he had no floo powder; his dad usually gave him some before he left. Well, he’d turned 11 today, ready to be a real wizard; he should start doing these things for himself. He wasn’t a  _ baby  _ anymore. With some difficulty, he reached up to grab the pot of floo, but then stumbled as he brought it back down, throwing half the pot on the floor. Harry growled in exasperation, and grabbed the hearth tidy and swept it up. He hoped his dad wouldn’t be too mad, assuming he noticed. The powder in the shovel seemed a bit dirty; he wasn’t sure putting it back to sit in the pot was a good idea. He mentally shrugged, and threw the whole panful into the fire. The fire seemed to swell as it turned bright green again. Harry waited a moment; it seemed safe enough. He carefully stepped in, then declared his destination and vanished into the flames. The fire continued to burn green in the empty room.

~~~

Harry stumbled out of the fireplace into Dumbledore’s office. His dad was waiting for him, and gave him a look over to make sure he was alright; he seemed to have taken a bit longer than he should have done. Or maybe he was just paranoid.

Dumbledore was waiting with him, “I’d offer you a sherbet lemon, but we’re just about to have dinner” he said.

“If’n yer don’t mind me askin’, sir, why did we floo ‘ere? It’s no farther walkin’ across the grounds” Hagrid asked.

“Well, I rather thought Harry might like to see Fawkes today. Or perhaps, Fawkes might-” Dumbledore swiftly leaned to one side as Fawkes lazily glided through the space his head was occupying “-want to see Harry. That  _ was _ rather rude, Fawkes” Dumbledore admonished lightly.

Harry lifted his arm for Fawkes to land on, who did so. Fawkes crooned cheerfully, and began nibbling on a wayward tuft on Harry’s head. Harry giggled and stroked Fawkes’ breast with a finger “I didn’t bring ya anything today, silly bird.” Fawkes tutted.

Hagrid smiled at them both. Was that because the scene made him happy, or just the infectiousness of Fawkes’ twittering? Either way, they’d start annoying people if they were too late. “C’mon then, we need to get down b’fore too long”

“Shall we, then?” Dumbledore said as he gestured for his guests to go ahead, and they all headed down the stairs for the great hall.

Before too long they were there. Hagrid pushed the great double doors open ahead of his son. Fawkes had migrated to the top of his head, always curiously light for his size.

“Happy birthday Harry!” echoed a chorus of voices as he followed his dad in. Harry blushed at being the center of attention, but his dad offered a hand and lead him to the center of a large rectangular table, during the year on of the house students’ tables. A pair of empty spots on the bench waited for them, with Dumbledore on the opposite side; the other teachers flanked the spare seats. Hagrid guided his son to his spot as Dumbledore took his, Fawkes perching on the back of the chair. Snape eyed it shrewdly from his seat next to the Headmaster’s.

Hagrid remained standing a moment, and spoke to them all, “Thank all of ye who were able to come, to give Harry his own Hogwarts welcome before the year starts. We really ‘preciate it. That’s all I wanted ter say...” he trailed off, but the positive babble and murmering he received pleased him, and he took his seat, grabbing the goblet before him, and raising it, cried “Ter Harry’s firs’ year as a fully fledged wizard!” A resounding response was given, enthusiasm varying, but it was good nonetheless. At that, a buffet appeared at the centre of the table, and attention turned to the meal.

Harry was inwardly pleased that didn’t keep carrying on, it was quite unnerving having so much attention given to him. But he could cope easier with this.

Seeing that the Headmaster was otherwise occupied, Professor Snape leaned forward slightly and began speaking to him, “I presume you’ve had an enjoyable day so far?” he said.

“Yes sir!” Harry cheerfully responded “Dad made me breakfast, and we chose my wand parts, and saw the thestrals-”

“Sounds charming.” broke Snape. “Did the wand making go well? I was quite curious given that I’d expect your father to offer some... _ unusual _ options.”

Taking a sip of pumpkin juice, Harry nodded eagerly. “Dad won’t tell me what I picked yet, though. I did it blindfold so I didn’t just pick the ‘cool stuff’.”

“Quite sensible, indeed. Similarly, the nature of many potions ingredients can be rather  _ offensive _ to those of delicate sensibility. I expect no such silliness from  _ you _ .” Snape said.

“And no foolish throwing things in other people’s cauldrons like James, right?” mocked Harry.

Snape’s lips thinned slightly. “No.” he said.

“Oh, come off it, Severus,” Hagrid chimed in. “Harry ain’t really like James was at his age in that way, is he?”

“Small mercies.” Snape conceded, before engaging Dumbledore in a new conversation regarding a cauldron insurance policy for his next class of buffoons.

Harry now began heaping his plate up with food from the buffet before him; lamb with mint gravy, roasted potatoes and pumpkin, root vegetables, and so on. Fawkes, deciding he liked the look of some of these items, hopped down to the table, grabbed the plate in a claw and promptly vanished in the usual burst of flame. Harry just looked rather bemused before a clean plate appeared in its place (courtesy of the elves this time), and Harry restocked his food.

He noticed Professor Kettleburn talking to his dad from the other side, and listened and waa about to chip in about the thestrals they’d seen earlier, when Professor McGonagall asked him how he was anticipating finally starting school.

Harry chewed and swallowed his mouthful before replying, lest the Professor admonish him for his table manners “Really excited after getting my letter this morning from Professor Dumbledore! But I haven’t got any books or equipment yet, as I did only get the letter this morning.”

“Well I wouldn’t worry so much about that.” said the professor with a wry smile. “I will say that in class, we may have to be more strict and formal with you; it would not be fair on the other students to treat you differently.”

“Dad said as much. I understand. I don’t want to stand out any more than I have to anyway honestly.” Harry said.

McGonagall nodded curtly. This was understandable, given Harry’s special status. “That said, I expect you to try your best in class. Your father James was especially good in my Transfiguration classes.”

Harry scrunched his face up slightly “I don’t wanna be like him really though, do I?”

“Putting aside the implied insult against my profession,” Professor McGonagall replied, “I see that our Potions master has been putting ideas in your head again.”

“And dad. They’re not lying to me, are they?” said Harry, confused.

“Well… no,” admitted McGonagall, “But that doesn’t take away from his skill at Transfiguration. He wasn’t  _ all _ bad as a student, really, and it is also omitting that he did eventually mature and become far more a sensible and respectable man.  _ Some _ people would do well to remember that.” Snape sneered at her from across the table. Professor McGonagall just sneered back mockingly before continuing “That is not necessarily to say that you will be just as good at the discipline as he was, mind, we don’t want to unfairly expect things from you. But these things often run in the blood, so do make a good try of it, okay dear?”

“Yes ma’am, I will!” Harry leaned closer to her “I really want to make dad proud of me!” he conspired.

The professor smiled at him, and touched his hand “You’re a good lad, Harry. I’m quite certain he already is. Don’t let your dinner get too cold, now!”

After dinner, dessert was presented on the table, along with clean dining ware. Dumbledore predictably went for a lemon tart. Before Harry could grab anything, a large chocolate cake appeared right in front of him in a shower of sparks, startling him. His dad laughed beside him, and clasped his shoulder in a big hand. “Happy birthday, Harry.” he said, and kissed him on the head.

“Aww,  _ dad _ .” Harry complained half heartedly. “I can’t eat all of that now!”

Harry took up the large cake knife that came with it, and began slicing it up. He murmured to his dad to hand the cake out.

Hagrid announced that chocolate cake was being given out, and levitated several plates to those wanting across the table. Harry took himself a slice last, and the house elves took the remainder away for safekeeping.

The hour eventually drew somewhat late, and Harry yawned loudly.

“That sounds like it’s time ter get home, I think.” he roused Harry to get up, and they made their goodbyes to everyone.

They crossed the grounds at a steady pace to get home, Harry smiling at the sight of it; it was always reassuring. It was mostly composed of large, roughly hewn wooden boards on the outside, though the extensions added since were a bit neater. The roof was topped with thick bark pieces forming a large, shallow cone. A big stable style door awaited them.

As they went in, Harry gasped at the large parcel waiting for him on the table; the teachers had decided to send them ahead for Harry to pick up later. They were undoubtedly mostly going to be school supplies for the coming year, but that wasn’t a bad thing; it actually felt very exciting.

The fire still burned, subsided now, in the hearth. Fang did not appear to have moved or woken up since they left. As Harry crossed the room to inspect his presents, he noticed the fire was a bit off colour, like it had a...green-ish tinge. Whoops.

Then he noticed a curious trail of ash leaving the fire pit, taking a winding path across the floor, and eventually dissipating across the room from the fire. As he looked at it, his dad came up behind him and stopped dead as he noticed the ash. Then he looked at the fire.

“Harry, wha’ happened before you floo’d to the school?” he said quietly and firmly.

Harry turned to look up at him “I spilt a bit of floo; I swept it up and put it all in the fire as it was dirty...“

Hagrid strode away and inspected how much powder was missing from the pot. Then he turned round and crouched down and inspected the ash. “Fang!” he commanded firmly, who jumped up quickly, though a bit dazed, and came over. Hagrid pointed down for him at the ashes with paired fingers. “Fin’ this.” he said, quietly but assertively. Fang began sniffing loudly, and then sneezed rather loudly from inhaling some ash. Then he resumed snuffling, though rather more cautiously, and began meandering around the room.

Harry looked rather concerned. “I’m sorry, dad. What’s wrong? Can I help?” he said.

His dad said “Putting too much floo in the fire meant it was still burnin’ with it when yeh left. An ashwinder’s come out of the fire; it’ll lay red hot eggs if we don’ find it quick, that could burn the ‘ouse down.” Harry gasped in shock.

Fang went into Harry’s room, and after a moment, barked loudly. He stood, growling low at something under the bed; the ashwinder. The two wizards followed him in and bent down to look.

A thick, greyish looking serpent lay under the bed, about 2 metres long, with deep red eyes like embers within a charred piece of wood, looking at them. It hissed with an odd sound a bit like a fresh log hissing when put in a fire, and withdrew at the sight of them and Fang.

Hagrid drew his wand. “I best deal with it. I don’t wanna, but we can’t leave it...” he hesitated a moment.

“Wait, dad!” Harry cried. He looked intently at the ashwinder “It’s a sort of serpent, right?”

His dad clapped him on the back “Good thinkin’ ‘Arry! See if we can accomodate ‘er safely, per’aps.”

Harry cleared his throat and, meeting the serpent’s gaze, hissed “ _ Hello. We are not enemies.” _

The ashwinder immediately went quiet, and stared right back at Harry “ _ Speaker. What doest thou require? _ ”

Hagrid was stock still in excitement. He’d always been just a little bit jealous of Harry’s parseltongue; whether it was due to the scar or actually within Harry’s bloodline no one was quite certain.

“ _ We want to help you. What are you looking for? _ ” Harry asked it.

The ashwinder came closer “ _ Nest for my eggs. Need to burn; need to be hot. _ ”

Harry translated for his dad. Thinking quickly, he got up and went to the front room, gesturing Harry to follow. Harry extended his arm for the snake, which dutifully slithered out and coiled around it. Fang looked at it with a sideways head, confused. Harry could feel an intense warmth that was within the snake, but the skin was somewhat cool.

In the main room, his dad was fetching a thick cauldron from the back of the room, and placed it on the hearth. He then threw in lots of tinder and moulded it into a crude nest at the bottom of the cauldron. “‘Ow abou’ that?” he shrugged.

Harry raised his snake-laden arm over the cauldron lip “ _ Is this a good nest? Go and look. _ ”

The ashwinder released it’s hold, and coiled round within the cauldron and tinder, flicking it’s bright orange tongue. “ _ Need more burning wood. Need burn for long time. _ ”

Translating for his dad again, father and son both gathered more firewood and slipped it in around the snake. It hissed pleasingly.

“Does it need to just be ‘ot for a long while?” Hagrid asked. Harry asked the ashwinder in turn; it replied in the affirmative.

Hagrid bent down and removed several loose cobblestones from beneath the cauldron, revealing a depression lined with ash. He threw more kindling in it and began a small fire.

The ashwinder seemed confused, looking around for the fire that must surely be creating the heat. But it seemed not dissatisfied. Harry spoke to it again “ _ We can keep this nest hot this way. _ ”

The ashwinder settled down within the mass of flammables in the cauldron, virtually out of sight, and looking more comfortable in the heat. “ _ Nest is good. My thanks. _ ”

Hagrid knelt down and cast a charm usually used for cooking on the flames, to keep them simmering gently so they would last much longer unattended. The excitement over, he crossed the room and sat at the table of presents. “I think we best leave ‘er to settle down fer now.” he told Harry.

Harry cast another glance at the ashwinder, which now seemed to be content to ignore him, and came and sat with his dad at the table.

“An’ fer future reference,” his dad said, “jus’ leave extra floo in a diffren’ bowl, alrigh’?”

Nodding sheepishly, Harry tried to change the topic by reaching for his present. Hagrid allowed it; his son seemed to have understood the potential severity of the incident.

With some difficulty, Harry dragged the large parcel across the worn smooth surface towards him, then tore away the brown paper packaging. A large pile of books slipped out; they seemed to comprise the majority of his required school literature. Harry snatched at a note that slipped off the top of the pile and off the table, which read:

_ Dear Harry, _

_ I and Severus have collected a complete set of your required school literature from spare copies around the school, some donated helpfully by the other teachers; we hope you enjoy learning from them! We have both also gifted you with presents from ourselves, _

_ Fondly, _

_ Professor McGonagall _

_ Professor Snape _

The reverse of the card expressed written birthday wishes from most of the other teachers. Harry smiled and put it aside, organising the books on the table as he looked in the remaining paper for the additional gifts.

A long object wrapped in more parcel paper came out. Unwrapping it revealed a long glass rod, with a slightly bulbous end. A note was wrapped around the centre of it. Harry unfurled it and it read:

_ Harry, _

_ This is a stirring rod used for various chemicals in Muggle laboratories. It is a special kind of toughened glass they call ‘Pyrex’. It is chemically and, I have found, magically inert also. It would make an ideal potion stirrer. It should serve you well for many years  _ provided  _ you look after it. _

_ Professor Snape _

Harry found this object rather curious. The note was true to the professor’s curt nature, as was the practicality of the gift. But that was Professor Snape for you; he had a funny way of showing affection, as it were.

His dad took a look at the rod and the note, taking them from Harry. He handled the rod with great care, though tapped the table with it experimentally upon reading the note; he seemed astonished it didn’t shatter.

Lastly within the packaging, was a neatly bound stack of papers. A note was affixed to the front:

_ Harry, _

_ Whilst you are a tad young to begin training, I believe you would find these notes I took on the animagus transformation especially interesting. I do hope they can aid you in some way, _

_ Minerva McGonagall _

“Oh wow, that’s cool,” said Harry, “look at this, dad.”

His dad took the note from him and gave it a look, then a cursory skim of the notes themselves.

“Think yeh’ll try it when yer a bit older, then?” he asked.

Harry nodded vigorously, then gave his dad a calculating look. “Hey, why didn’t you ever try it?”

Something flashed past his dad’s eyes a moment, before he said “Well, uh, I guess I never really had the chance before, and didn’t really think ‘bout it… not sure that I coul’ anyway...” he mumbled.

Harry gave him a suspicious look. “Well,” he said with a dramatic flair, “when I try, you’ll try with me. We can even ask the professor to help. Okay?”

Hagrid shifted a bit uncomfortably, then quietly agreed “Alrigh’. Anyway, are yeh happy with all that, then?” he waved an arm over the presents on the table.

“I think it’s all really great. Also makes getting ready for school much easier! I have some time to get reading my books ahead of my  _ classes  _ too!” Harry said excitedly.

Harry suddenly started, and shot off the table over to the cauldron. Hagrid followed and they both peered in.

A gentle fire was gradually incinerating the cauldron contents, surrounding a group of bright red eggs, nestled on a bed of ash.

Harry looked about, confused. He didn’t think the ashwinder would be able to get out of the cauldron.

“They don’t live long, Harry.” his dad said, sensing his confusion. “They only last a couple ‘ours no matter what.”

Harry felt a bit sad about that, but nature was often just like that; there wasn’t much to be done about that. “Will these only last that long when they hatch too, then?”

Hagrid stroked his beard in thought. “Ter tell the truth… I ‘aven’t ‘eard of anyone ever hatchin’ these. Normally is a panic to freeze ‘em before they start a fire. Nobody ever asked ‘ow to make a good nest. They might be jus’ the same, they may also be a bit differen’.”

They both looked back at the eggs. Hagrid said “Le’s try just one fer now; we can’t be quite sure what’ll happen. I’m sure Perfesser Snape would like the rest for ‘is potions besides.” Seeing that his son looked agreeable to that, Hagrid took the tongs from the hearth tidy and removed the eggs one by one, placing them on the hearth, and casting  _ Glaciatus _ at them. When he had done this with six of them (leaving one in the nest), he placed them in a sealed jar, casting  _ Glaciatus sempiternis  _ at it _.  _ He put the jar in the cold cupboard at the far end of the kitchen area. He came back and checked the fire under the cauldron, placing some more mid-sized branches on it.

“I reckon we should keep this goin’, that seems ter be what the ‘winder said, di’nt it?” he half-asked Harry.

“Oh, uh, yeah, that does sound right.” Harry confirmed, thinking. Harry yawned deeply.

“Roight then,” said his dad, “look like time to get ter bed, hmm?”

Harry was too tired to protest.

Hagrid scooped him up and took him through to his room. Hagrid then changed him into his pyjamas with a quick spell, and laid him on his bed.

Hagrid stood over the bed. “I do hope yer had a good day, then?” he said.

“It’s been...the best birthday ever. Thanks so much, dad. And everyone else.” Harry sleepily replied.

“O’ course, o’ course.” Hagrid nodded quietly. “G’night, Harry.” he whispered, as he leaned down and gave a whiskery kiss to his forehead. Seeing that Harry might be asleep already, Hagrid crept away, and gently closed the door, shutting the light out.


	4. Chapter 4

The remaining month before school started in earnest was rather busy in the Hagrid household.

The very next day Harry eagerly began delving into his book pile. There was a lot of useful stuff to learn about magic, magical theory, potential practical applications, and so on. The potions book included a note several pages in, suggesting that he check some particular pages much further ahead. Harry wasn’t sure why this would be the case, but one ignored Professor Snape at one’s peril, so he followed the instructions all the same.

A couple of days later, Hagrid came out of his workshop, looking slightly fatigued. “Can ye come outside a momen’, Harry?” he said, and after throwing on their outer robes and overcoat, they both stepped outside.

They walked a short distance from the hut before they stopped on an open patch of grass. Hagrid knelt before Harry, who looked up at him expectantly. “Well, I’m sure you can guess why we’re out ‘ere. I ‘ope this works well for ya, then!” He produced the completed wand from a pocket, the yew wood carved and polished into shape. It was a fairly simple design, very straight. The wand bore no bark except at the base, where it had only been lightly sanded so that it retained much of it’s texture. He presented it to Harry on an open palm.

Suddenly nervous, Harry cautiously reached out for the wand, and took it, basking in the powerful feeling of belonging glowing through it. His dad also seemed rather anxious; would the completed wand live up to the promise the disparate parts had suggested? Harry just stood there, a bit dumbstruck now that he actually  _ had  _ it.

Hagrid watched Harry a moment. Then said “Right, Harry. What was, er, one of the basic spells from yer books?” Thinking, he accioed the basic book of spells, and opened it near the front. “‘Ow abou’ ‘Flipendo’? Look ‘ere at the movement, and give it a go. Just point it sensibly, mind.”

Harry looked at the page his dad showed him. Why was he nervous? He’d done magic before; it would be just fine. He vaguely pointed it near the ground, and pushed his arm out whilst speaking the incantation “ _ Flipendo _ .”

Nothing happened.

He tried again, rather half heartedly, but still nothing happened. The wand seemed to feel a bit off in his hand.

He turned and frowned at his dad, who has his chin in a hand. “Yer jus’ _ nervous _ , Harry, don’t worry. Try this...” he tried to reassure his son, and summoned, this time, a large metal tankard, lowering it to the ground on the other side of Harry from himself.

“Right.” he said in his most authoritative voice. He crouched next to Harry and guided his wand arm towards it, holding the book spread open before him. “Look closely ‘ere again. Try really  _ shoutin’ _ the incantation, really express yer motions, and focus on hitting that tankard there, see?”

Harry fixed his features resolutely.  _ Stop being a wimpy child _ , he thought. He  _ can _ do this. He stared down the tankard, and stepped towards it out of his dad’s grasp. He stabbed his wand directly at it, and shouted “ _ Flipendo! _ ”, urging his magic to hit it.

Relief flooded Harry as he felt the magic surge through him, through his arm and then the wand (which seemed to sing in his grasp), and a bright blue bolt shot out the wand, striking the tankard, which was flung away bouncing across the field.

“Ha hah!” roared Hagrid, clenched hands raised, before seeing that Harry was looking at him with a single raised eyebrow. “That is to say, uh, well done” he said more calmly.

Harry laughed and ran to him, throwing himself into a great hug. They laughed together for a while, before his dad set him down again.

“Yer were jus’ nervous, weren’t ya? Knew it; I had similar troubles at first.” Hagrid said, summoning his tankard back. He inspected it, one side with a deep dent in it, culminating in a small hole. “Haaa! Look at  _ that _ , Harry. Yeh’ll make a mighty powerful wizard, I knew it!” he said with uncontained glee, showing Harry the state of the tankard. Harry’s eyes opened in shock. He picked up the dropped spell book and opened the page to repairing spells. Suddenly, seeing what page he stopped on, his dad snatched the book out of his hands.

“Now don’ be goin’ doin’ that!” he exclaimed to Harry’s startled face. “I want ter keep this as a souvenir. Yer  _ first spell _ , Harry! Just tremendous, see?” he waved the tankard about admiringly.

His son just smiled in embarrassment at the praise, though also he was immensely pleased. He looked at his wand in his hand, which still thrummed with delight; he didn’t know if he could ever let it go, not even to put in his pocket.

“Not _just_ my first spell, dad. This also shows how great your wands are!” Harry said triumphantly, holding it up.

Now it was his dad’s turn to be embarrassed. “Aww Harry. Thanks. But the magic comes from  _ you _ , not the wand. Sure, it helps a bit...”

Harry put his hands on his hips “That might be true. But I still needed the wand to do it… it feels pretty good too.”

“It does?” said Hagrid. He bent down to closely inspect it within Harry’s hold. “C’n ye still feel it?”

“It’s still humming a little, yeah. It feels like music, I guess?” Harry said.

Hagrid stroked his beard musingly. “Very interestin’, Harry. It normally takes uncommon skill and long term use to feel that sorta thing from a wand. Perhaps is a good sign of that wand’s match for yer.”

“I think you’re right, dad.” Harry said, twirling the wand in his hand. Then a thought stopped his motion. He lifted the wand to his face and peered closely at it. His dad loomed over him, confused.

“...no, I can’t work it out. What did you use to make this wand? You never did tell me.” Harry posed.

“Ah no, I guess not.” his dad said, scratching the back of his head. “Well, if yer wanna know, it’s yew wood, with some of Tenebrus’ hairs as a core.”

Harry admired the wand “Huh. Don’t think I’d have guessed that.” He looked out towards the forest. “Do you think it’s on purpose?”

“Whether or not it’s coincidence?” Hagrid said. “Is hard ter say. Some magic we understand very well, and yet it always surprises us and works in unexpected ways. Perfesser Dumbledore always says as much, and he understan’s magic better than anyone by my reckoning. He actually said jus’ the same about yer wand when I asked him.”

Harry put his wand away in the inner pocket of his robe, looking out at the scenery thoughtfully.

~~~

The first day of term was upon them, now. Harry was eager to start, having been studying diligently for the past month and enjoying it. His dad had been quite useful helping him with some minor practice at spellcasting, but he wanted to put it to the test in a real classroom now. They both got up early that day, got Harry packed for his stay in the dorms (Harry had been unsure but his dad, admittedly uncertain himself, had insisted he ought to learn some independence, as all young creatures must learn to leave their parents and fend for themselves. And it wouldn’t preclude the occasional stay in his own room anyway), dressed in his school robes, washed, ready and presentable.

Hagrid stood back and admired his young charge, looking him over. He licked his thumb and wiped a smudge off his nose before he was content. He quite suddenly teared up at the sight.

“Oh, Harry - yer growin’ up! It feels like just yesterday you came home with me the firs’ time...” Hagrid took out a handkerchief and dabbed his eyes, then loudly blew his nose. “I’ll miss ‘avin’ you around all the time, ya know. Please visit often, alright?”

Harry darted forward into a tight hug. “I couldn’t bear not to, dad. I’ll miss you too… love ya, dad.”

Hagrid kissed him on the head “I love you too, son.”

They parted and looked at each other a moment.

“Right then, we’d best get to King’s Cross before too long.” Hagrid said. It seemed redundant, but Harry did not want to stand out among his peers by avoiding the train. Neither of them wanted Harry to miss the opportunity to make friends either; the famous Hogwarts Express trip was well known as a time many friendships began, especially inter-house ones.

Hagrid wove a lightweight charm into Harry’s packed bag, a large satchel, so Harry could lift and carry it reasonably easily. Hagrid lead them to the door and stopped, taking a deep breath before moving to open it.

They both stepped outside into the morning light, illuminating the dew coating the grass. Fang lumbered out behind them. They set off on a leisurely stroll across the grass towards Hogsmeade, quietly contemplating the day to come. Eventually they reached the outskirts of the town, and stopped at a signpost.

“Now wait ‘ere.” Hagrid instructed Fang, who lay down obediently. “Keep ‘old of yer bag.” Hagrid instructed Harry in turn, as he took a firm grip of Harry’s shoulder and twizzled his wand in the other. Harry clenched his eyes shut and braced himself as he felt an invisible hook yank him from his gut into the vacuum of apparition. It was certainly not his preferred form of transportation, but it did have convenience going for it, taking them straight from Hogwarts (more or less) to an apparition point in Platform 9 ¾ of King’s Cross station, in London.

They had to shuffle quickly out the way (unpleasant when one still has yet to get their bearings) as more wizards and witches apparated in with their children. Hagrid had (deliberately or otherwise) timed things a little on the late side, which was when peak chaos reigned over the station, everyone more concerned with seeing their own children off than the famous boy who had just appeared.

Harry gasped in awe at the sight of the Hogwart’s Express. What a strange contraption it was! A colossal beast of solid metal, painted a brilliant red. He wondered how on earth such a thing moved unaided. His dad had not been able to tell him much beyond this; it was a Muggle thing. Odd for wizards, but no wizard alternative existed for such large scale transport, especially one to convey children who lacked the personal magical and physical skills. It also had to occasionally be visible to Muggles from a distance, so a giant carriage pulled by Abraxans or similar was out of the question 

Hagrid’s large and unmissable presence was useful in that people would move out the way unprompted. They strode their way towards a carriage, and Hagrid crouched down to Harry.

“Right, I guess we’re here then. Sure you’ll be alrigh’?” he said.

Harry grinned “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry so much, I’m a big boy now, right?” he flourished his wand for emphasis; he could manage a few simple spells consistently already.

Hagrid beamed at his son, so eager to show he was grown up. “I guess yeh are then. I’ll see ya soon then. Better get a seat.” he inclined his head towards the visibly empty booth within the carriage.

Harry nodded, took up his bag, and gave his dad a quick kiss on the nose before climbing onto the train. He darted into the empty carriage and closed the door, then looked out the window. His dad waved at him through the window, smiling widely, before turning and heading for the apparition point to leave.

Harry settled into his compartment, putting his bag on the seat beside him. He watched the door he had shut behind him, wondering if anyone would come in; the prospect was both exciting and nerve wracking.

His first guest, however, was a toad that crawled out from under the opposite seat. Harry looked at the toad. It looked back. It croaked at him. Harry leant down and picked it up, remembering that they were a suggested student pet on the acceptance letter. Had someone lost it already? There was a small windowsill. The toad seemed content with the view.

Harry sat quietly for a while. He felt a vibration surge through the train, and heard a loud metallic whistle blow from outside. Then he noticed a commotion outside the train, as a large family raced for the train, all with bright red hair; perhaps the train was leaving. The tallest child walked ahead of the group and got straight on. Then after a quick goodbye, the next two. Then a longer, drawn out one (albeit rushed), for what must have been another first year. He got on the train, and Harry could see him looking bewildered after getting on, not sure where to go, having been abandoned by his brothers. Harry felt a pang of pity and kinship for the boy, and opened his compartment door. “Need a seat?” he asked.

“Oh. Thanks!” said the red haired boy. He joined Harry in the compartment, and took a seat opposite, putting his suitcase down. It looked rather worn out. At that moment, the whistle blew again and the train jolted into motion.

The boy opposite looked at Harry. “First year, are you?” he asked.

“Yes, I am. You the same I assume?” said Harry.

The boy opposite nodded. “I’m Ron. Ron Weasley.” he said.

“Oh, were those your twin brothers that got on before you?” Harry asked.

Ron scowled a bit. “Heard about them already, have you? I’m not surprised. Mum’s been tearing her hair out because of them. So, what’s your name, then?”

Harry hesitated. This was the moment of truth, he supposed. “Uh, it’s Harry. Hagrid.”

Ron sat back and looked to him. “I think I recognise the name, but not sure from where. Where you from?”

“I’m adopted and have my dad’s name. So it doesn’t matter where  _ I’m _ from, does it?” Harry said.

“So your parents are dead, then?” Ron asked. Then his face went rather pale. “Oh Merlin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine!” Harry held his hands up. “I don’t really remember them to be honest, so I’m not too bothered. The teachers sure like telling me about them, though.”

“You’ve been talking to the teachers already?” asked Ron, surprised.

Harry flushed red, realising his error too late. He didn’t really want to explain that, exactly, not just yet.

“I, uh, well-” Harry tried.

He was saved the next moment when a blonde, slightly heavier boy slowly slid the door open and peered in. He spotted the toad looking out the window.

“Trevor! There you are!” he exclaimed. He entered the compartment a little sheepishly, followed by a  _ very _ bushy haired brunette girl. “Thank you for finding him, er-”

“Harry.” Harry said for him. He offered the toad up to the boy “You should keep a closer eye on him… uh...”

“My name’s Neville. Neville Longbottom.” the boy told him. He looked about at Harry and Ron, clutching Trevor. “Can we share this compartment with you? This is Hermione Granger, she was helping me look for Trevor.”

Harry and Ron shuffled up, Harry taking his bag down from the seat so Hermione could sit down.

“And I’m Ron Weasley.” Ron added.

The other two nodded. Then Hermione spoke “I’m so excited for Hogwarts; it’s the best wizarding school in the country.  _ Hogwarts: A History _ says so. I’ve read all of it, you know. I had to as I’m Muggleborn, you see, I’m a bit behind all the wizard born students. I’m trying to amend that.” She seemed barely able to constrain herself.

“You don’t say.” said Ron, bemused. “Well, Harry here says he already talked to the teachers.”

Hermione rounded on him “So you’re Muggleborn too, then? Professor McGonagall gave me a tour of Diagon Alley and helped me get my school books and explained so many things to me.”

Harry felt his face begin flaming again. “No, I’m not Muggleborn...”

Everyone in the compartment seemed to be looking at him a little oddly now. “Then why are the teachers telling you about your parents, then?” Ron asked again.

Harry remained quiet, looking at his feet.

“Why would they talk about his parents?” Neville asked Ron.

“‘Cos they’re dead.” Ron blurted.

“Ron!!” Hermione shrieked at him. “You can’t say that!”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, Harry!” Ron apologised.

“I hope the teachers tell me about my parents.” Neville mumbled.

Hermione looked at him sympathetically. “Oh? Are they-”

“I live with my grandmother.” interrupted Neville.

Hermione touched him on the knee. “I  _ am _ sorry, Neville.”

Neville smiled at her. “That’s alright. It was when I was very young, anyway.”

“Like Harry then!” said Ron. Harry looked up sharply at him, frustrated.

Neville took stock of what was happening. Ron seemed about to push the point again, but Neville could see that Harry didn’t want to pursue that avenue, and decided to try to hemp him “Well, if you don’t want to talk about it, Harry, then you don’t have to. Right, guys?” Neville looked at the other two.

They both looked at Harry, and could see that he was a bit uncomfortable. “Oh Harry, we’re sorry.” said Hermione. Ron nodded his agreement. “I was just interested, you know. But if you don’t want to talk to us, we won’t push you.”

Harry couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at the sorry looks on their faces, though he was grateful to Neville for answering for him. “I don’t want any of you to feel bad, it’s just that, well… look, I’ll show you why. Just, can you promise not to overreact?”

The others quietly looked at him, a bit puzzled, but they all nodded together.

Harry mentally took a breath. Then he took a real one, and lifted the hair covering his forehead to show them his famous scar. It was the reason he wanted his hair to grow this long; he wished it would just go away.

Ron gasped audibly, as did Hermione, though Neville better maintained his composure.

“You’re Harry Potter?” Ron and Hermione said together. They both looked at each other.

“I thought you said you were Muggleborn!” said Ron.

Hermione huffed a bit “That doesn’t mean I’m a  _ total _ ignoramus.  _ A History of Magic _ talks about how Harry Potter stopped the Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and has a scar in a lightning bolt shape as a direct result.”

Harry sighed in frustration. “I wish I hadn’t.” he said.

Everyone looked at him in shock. Ron began spluttering.

“Not like that! Of course I don’t want some evil wizard going around killing people. I just wish I wasn’t famous for something I don’t even remember! I wish I wasn’t famous at all!” Harry said.

“Why not?” Ron asked a bit dumbly.

“Because I don’t like being stared at, or being the centre of attention, and people are all  _ weird _ around me if they know. They just rave about defeating the Dark Lord, and they don’t actually care about  _ me _ . Just this thing I apparently did.” Harry explained.

Ron still didn’t seem to understand why someone wouldn’t want those things, judging by the look he was giving Harry. Hermione mused on the matter.

“I get it, I think.” said Neville. “Some of my family and the adults they talk to, just talk at me about what great aurors my parents were. They never ask about the things I care about.”

“I thought you said you  _ wanted _ the teachers to tell you about your parents, Neville? That doesn’t sound like you’d want them to.” asked Harry.

“Well, it would be nice to hear about what they were like at  _ my _ age, at school. Maybe if they were ever naughty, or actually bad at anything.” Neville said.

Harry nodded in commiseration; that made sense.

Sensing that the conversation in Harry’s fame had dropped, Ron decided to shift it. “I have a pet rat, Scabbers. He’s really old though, my older brothers took him to school, they've left now though. He’s pretty lazy.” Ron produced a large grey rat from his robe pocket; it didn’t even seem to have woken up. It…  _ snored _ on Ron’s lap. Harry didn’t even know rats did snore.

“I have my toad, Trevor.” Neville said, still holding him. He set him down on his own lap so he could wander about a bit. “He keeps trying to run away though; he was a present, I guess, from my great uncle Algie.”

Harry looked at the toad again. “Maybe he’s still loyal to him instead of you. Or maybe he’s a wild toad rather than a domesticated one.”

“That makes so much sense!” exclaimed Neville. “He’s spent the past few years constantly trying to get away. Maybe I’ll just let him go somewhere, Algie’s probably forgotten anyway…”

“There’s a big lake at Hogwarts, he’d probably like to live around the edge of it.” Hermione said.

“Sounds good to me. He’ll probably be happier that way than staying with me.” said Neville. “I prefer plants anyway, to be honest.”

“I asked my parents if I could have a cat, but they don’t think I’m responsible enough yet. They’re going to see how good my grades are after a year or two, though I had good marks at primary and middle school already.” Chimed in Hermione.

Ron stared at her. “Muggles send you to school before you’re of age? Mad, mad I tell you. No wonder dad’s barmy.”

“And you didn’t have any education  _ before _ now? You don’t all seem terribly stupid.” said Hermione.

“My dad taught me most of what I know, and helped me study my school books for a month before school started.” added Harry.

“And my gran taught me plenty too.” said Neville. “Seems weird that Muggles don’t just teach their kids themselves when they’re young.”

Hermione looked rather affronted. “It’s not like my parents don’t help, it’s just we start school at a younger age, I guess. Why do wizards not start sooner?”

“Magic.” the three boys said in unison. They all looked at each other, then burst out laughing; Hermione couldn’t help but giggle a bit.

Neville spoke for them “It’s too hard to control magic when you’re really young. As it is, I’m worried about how long it’ll take for me to not mess my spells up.”

“Yeah…” said Ron. He drew his wand and pointed it at Scabbers, snoozing obliviously. “Daffodils, marigolds, butter mellow, turn this grey old rat yellow!” Ron’s wand seemed to glow slightly at the tip (or was Harry imagining that?), but nothing happened other than Scabbers waking up with a jolt and incidentally rolling onto the floor. Ron leaned down to pick him up. “See? Nothing.”

“Well, obviously, Ron.  _ Real _ spells are usually in lati, not silly rhymes. And besides, transfiguration is quite difficult. I’d have been very surprised if you could even with a proper spell.” Hermione suggested.

Ron sighed in consternation “That's what I get for listening to the twins. They’re not gonna help me at all.”

Harry felt a little sorry for Ron. He leaned forward to him. “Try  _ lumos _ . It should make a light at the end of your wand, handy in the dark. No movement needed, just think about making it brighter.”

Ron held his wand before him nervously. He hesitated, staring at it as the others watched with bated breath. “ _ Lumos! _ ” he cried loudly. Everyone promptly shrieked as they were blinded by a flash of light, Ron dropping his wand. They all cheered as Ron looked rather pleased with himself.

Hermione looked at Harry, impressed. “You seem to know what you’re doing. I think we should all try. How about you, Neville?”

Neville stuttered nervously as he drew his wand. He closed his eyes and whispered  _ lumos _ ; the wand glowed dimly before petering out.

Hermione looked distinctly appalled. “You’re going to need to try harder than that in class, I think. See, watch me:  _ lumos. _ ” Hermione flicked her wand out and it shone gently.

Neville looked rather crestfallen. “You just need practice and  _ intent _ ;” Harry told him. “My first spells did absolutely nothing. You just need to mean what you say. Try again, harder.  _ Try  _ to blind us like Ron did. You can do it if  _ Hermione _ can.”

“What does  _ that _ mean!?” shouted Hermione in consternation at Harry, hands on her hips?

Harry raised his hands placatingly “I only meant you didn’t grow up around magic like we did! Sheesh!”

Hermione relaxed, looking rather embarrassed at her unnecessary outburst.

Neville scrunched his face up, and jabbed his wand to the ceiling, crying “ _ Lumos! _ ” Once again, everyone shrieked and clamped their eyes shut. Except Neville, who just stared at it in wonder, before allowing it to fade after the others began complaining.

“Maybe I’m not a terrible wizard, after all…” said Neville, who looked rather shocked.

“Of course not Neville, otherwise you wouldn’t be here going to Hogwarts!” said Hermione.

“Yeah, mate. Why’d ya think that?” Ron questioned.

“Gran always said so; it took me years to show magic, and what I did show wasn’t living up to my parents’ memory, she said.” Neville told him.

“That’s horrible! My dad would never say things like that. What my parents did has nothing to do with who I am now, or what I should do!” exclaimed Harry; the others murmured their agreement.

Neville seemed rather taken aback at all the support and shock at his statement. “Please don’t hate her. I think she just… misses my parents, my dad especially as she’s his mum. She even gave me his wand to use.” he waved it about for them to see.

Ron looked baffled at that. “On purpose? I have my brother Charlie’s old wand. My parents wanted to buy me my own but they didn’t have the money…”

“Mine’s my own from Ollivander’s, it chose me, he said.” said Hermione. She held it before everyone so they could look at it. “10 ¾ inches vine wood, with a dragon heartstring core.” she declared proudly.

“So how did you choose it exactly?” Harry asked her.

Hermione thought a moment “He just got me to try a few wands until one really  _ clicked  _ with me. I’m pretty sure the wands he tried me on were based on how good or bad the other wands hand been with me. Why, didn’t you go to Ollivanders? Professor McGonagall said almost all wizards do.”

“ _ My dad _ made mine for me personally, for my birthday!” said Harry, proudly flourishing his wand from his pocket.

They all looked at it curiously.

“Is your dad Ollivander, then?” said Neville.

Harry just laughed out loud at that. “No, no he’s not, sorry. He kept asking if I wanted to go, but I said he should make it, and I’m so glad he did. I love it.”

Ron looked a little annoyed. He wondered why his parents hadn’t made  _ him _ a wand, if they couldn’t afford to buy one. Instead he just gets an old wand that wasn’t chosen by him. “I wonder why my parents didn’t do the same for me.” Ron complained.

“There’s a reason Ollivander’s is the only wand maker in Diagon Alley,” Hermione said. “Wand making is supposed to be very, very difficult.”

“She’s right, it took my dad years of practice to get anywhere; Ollivander won’t properly teach anyone until he retires.” Harry said.

With that, Ron looked a little mollified.

“So-wait, how did your dad make it  _ for you _ ?” Hermione asked “I had to keep trying wands he’d made before hand.”

Harry hesitated a moment. “Well, I’m not sure if it’s meant to be a secret, so… just don’t tell anyone else, okay?” Harry whispered conspiratorially. The others quietly leaned in to hear him. “Dad got me to choose the shaft and core material separately, using my magic to feel theirs; I was blindfolded so I didn’t just pick ‘the cool stuff’. Then I told him what felt best for me.”

They all sat back, amazed. Ron looked at his wand a little wistfully, wondering if Neville thought the same. Not that he’d show that kind of disrespect to his father’s wand openly. Hermione looked rather less amazed and a bit more sceptical.

“How does that work? Ollivander said the wand chooses the wizard. You didn’t have a wand to choose!” she said.

“I don’t understand all of it. I could just feel and describe, well,  _ feelings _ from the parts he’d use to make a wand. And my wand works just great, so it must work!” Harry wiggled the wand a little for emphasis, casting a quiet but fairly bright  _ lumos _ to prove it; he’d practiced that one quite a lot. “And it’s the first time he’s ever done it like that, so we weren’t sure it would work until, well, it did!”

Hermione sat down, still not understanding, but realising she wouldn’t get an answer, either. She probably wouldn't understand even if Harry’s dad or Ollivander tried to explain it.

Conversation quieted down after that into a companionable silence, everyone watching the rolling vistas that were going by, now having left London.

At one point the silence was interrupted by a trolley lady with an assortment of food and sweets. Everyone got a modest assortment of treats from the cart except for Ron, who had no spending money; Neville offered Ron a chocolate frog, which he refused to accept until Neville suggested he trade an unwanted sandwich for it.

Some light discussion ensued regarding preferred sweets, desserts and foods for a while. Then, the door was suddenly opened by a pale, blonde boy. His cool eyes peered around the cabin at each occupant. They all stared back at him.

“Uh, can we help you?” Ron asked.

“Ugh. A  _ Weasley _ , no doubt.” the boy sneered at him. Ron’s face grew red, and he may have blurted something had Neville not subtly poked him “Perhaps you can help me. I heard that  _ Harry Potter  _ was on the train somewhere. Maybe you’ve seen him?”

Ron’s attempt to keep quiet in the face of this rude person was admirable, but his eyes betrayed him as he couldn’t help his eyes briefly flicking to Harry.

The pale boy fixed on Harry. “Hiding your scar, I see. I don’t blame you; being well known can have its...disadvantages.” the boy said. He stepped into the compartment and offered a hand to Harry “I’m Draco Malfoy.”

Harry took his hand in return rather cautiously. “And I’m Harry Hagrid, if it’s all the same to you.” Malfoy tilted his head curiously. “Why did you look for me? You’re right in that being famous is annoying.”

Malfoy hesitated, as if trying to solve a difficult sum in his head. “Well… Hagrid, you did something no one else ever did. You survived the  _ killing curse. _ That makes you valuable.”

Harry just blanked at that point; he had no idea what to make of being  _ valuable.  _ He wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or not. It didn’t seem intended that way.

Hermione decided that maybe Harry needed some help. “I do believe that Harry wishes to be considered a normal student like the rest of us here, so I’m not sure that he approves of you seeking him out like this.”

Malfoy looked at her now. “And what would you know? Who are you?”

“Hermione Granger. I’ve only been sat here talking to him since we got on the train.” Hermione said.

“Not a name  _ I  _ recognise,” Malfoy said with an air of loftiness, “you’re probably a  _ Muggleborn _ . Malfoys don’t listen to Muggleborns usually.”

Hermione spluttered in consternation; Ron continued to grow red, Neville tightly gripping his leg now, and shaking his head at him. Neville then let go, so as to speak up “Well, I happen to agree with her; Harry does not like being famous, and wants nothing to do with it.”

Malfoy spun round, suddenly just realising that Neville was there. He inclined his head slightly “... Longbottom. Whatever are you doing here?” Malfoy frowned. He looked at Harry and his frown deepened as Harry was beginning to look rather irritated. Then he rearranged his features to a thin smile, as if just realising. “You keep interesting company, Po- Hagrid.” he corrected. “But I can show you the  _ right _ kind of company to keep.” he offered his hand so as to help Harry up.

Harry ignored the hand. “I think I’m quite happy with my…  _ friends _ , thank you very much. Perhaps if you don’t insult all of them next time, you’ll be more convincing.”

Malfoy’s face attempted to screw up against his attempts to remain controlled, which elicited some small giggles from everyone. He angrily strode out and away up the carriage, followed by two other boys who had been stood outside. Neville got up and closed the door again.

Ron turned on him as he sat down “What’d you stop me for? He needed a good-”

“Attacking Malfoy would only end badly for you. His dad is a big political figure in the Ministry, and is on the Hogwarts board of governors. It’s not worth it, Ron.” Neville explained.

“I know, I know, dad’s always complaining about  _ his _ dad. Still…” Ron stewed angrily.

Now that Malfoy was gone, Hermione shook the frown off her face. “You consider me - us - your friends, Harry?”

Harry took a moment to think about it. “Yeah, yeah I think I do. I’ve never had friends before, really.”

“Me neither…” said Hermione.

“Well, I’m happy to be your friend, Hermione!” said Harry. She smiled shyly back at him.

“Well I like you all, I’ll be your friend. Nevermind all that Potter rubbish, right?” Ron offered. Harry smiled at him.

“The same from me.” said Neville.

“And me three!” said Hermione excitedly, looking to the other two.

Harry struggled to keep composed, he knew he was being silly, crying over something like that. “Thanks guys. Let’s all stay friends!”

“Amen!” said Ron for them all.

Seeing that the sky was beginning to darken, it was evident they must be getting near the school. They all began to get packed, dressed and ready for their departure from the train.


	5. Chapter 5

The compartment of four friends quivered with anticipation, all now dressed in their black school robes, as the train began it’s gradual slow down. As it stopped, there was a flurry of activity as the students all tried to fight their way off onto the platform. They elected to wait until most of the hubbub had died down.

Eventually they themselves got off onto the platform. Harry immediately recognised where they were, on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Then he heard a familiar booming voice.

“Firs’ years! All firs’ years to me!” Hagrid cried over the throng. Hagrid’s size and loud voice were invaluable in allowing him to easily be noticed even over the older, taller students. Harry lead the group through to the front of the first years, easy enough when they were mostly nervous and hiding amongst each other. Harry beamed up at his dad, who smiled back with a nod, before he addressed them all again, now they seemed to have gathered as the older students went away in a different direction.

“I’m Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of keys and grounds at ‘Ogwarts. If yeh’ll jus’ follow me, please.” He commanded loudly. Harry wanted to rush up and say hello and tell his dad about the train journey, but he knew he was busy now, and Harry didn’t want to draw extra attention to himself before he has to. His dad then turned and began walking them downhill away from Hogsmeade, towards the lake that could be seen glinting in the low light.

Before they followed him, Ron nudged Harry, and pointed between Hagrid and Harry. Harry grinned and nodded.

Ron looked thoughtful for a moment. “So he lives near Hogwarts then?” he asked. Harry just nodded yes. “ _ That’s _ why you’ve been talking to the teachers then!” Ron exclaimed quietly. He looked rather pleased with himself on getting his assertions correct. Harry could’ve sworn he heard Hermione muttering ‘lucky’ under her breath behind him.

The clustered students continued down the gentle slope, the sun getting rather low now, the waves of the lake glinting red and orange. By the time they reached the docks and many small boats, moonlight was becoming their principle means of sight, everything now bathed in grey and deep shadows. Thankfully, the lake surface reflected a lot of light so they could see well enough. A cool mist hovered over the water surface, spilling onto the beach.

Hagrid began directing students to boats, and helping them climb aboard when necessary. Harry managed to help Neville into one and then follow him in by himself. Ron helped Hermione on the opposite side of the boat, which seated four comfortably.

Once all the students were safely aboard, Hagrid boarded a larger designed boat for himself, and with a wave of his wand, the boats all gathered in formation and began the crossing to the docks at the base of the castle, that would grant direct entry.

After a couple of minutes, the castle came into view as they drew closer, and the mist thinned a moment. Harry pointed it out, Ron and Hermione twisting round to get a glimpse. They gasped at the sight of the huge, glorious building. Other students began reacting similarly around them. Murmurs began escalating on volume as the students became excited about their impending arrival, now that the castle was in sight.

Hermione looked down at the boat they were sat in, pondering. “Why, exactly, are we taking these boats to the school? Why is no one else?” she asked.

“Tradition.” said Ron. Hermione stared at him. “Oh, um, first years have always crossed the lake to Hogwarts. No one quite knows why anymore, though it might have something to do with the Muggles setting us on fire or something?”

“Religious Muggles, which was almost all of them back in those days, used to burn witches in fire. A test of whether or not you were a witch was to see whether or not they floated on water.” Hermione explained. “Floating would mean you’re a witch. Or wizard, I suppose. Nonsense, of course, but-”

“We do know, Hermione. We’re  _ wizards _ , everyone knows this stuff.” interrupted Ron. Hermione huffed and crossed her arms.

“Well, that’s why uncle Algie pushed me off a pier, after all.” said Neville.

The others just stared at him. “What?” Neville said harshly, a bit agitated.

“Your family’s messed up, mate.” said Ron, nonplussed. Hermione frowned at his bluntness, but couldn’t find it in her to disagree.

Silence reigned after that as they drew up to the castle, it disappearing from view under an overhang. Lit torches were visible at the far end of the large tunnel in the rock under part of the castle, signalling the receiving dock.

As the boats pulled up and students began to disembark onto the platform, they all anxiously began discussing the imminent sorting. Many of them were nervous about where they’d end up. 

“I hope I end up in Gryffindor.” said Hermione. “I hear that it’s the best house.”

“Professor McGonagall would say that. I wouldn’t read too much into it!” said Harry, jokingly. Hermione looked rather put out. “Seriously though. No house is better,  _ or worse _ , than any of the others. So says Professor Dumbledore. I think he’d know best. You’ll just go where you fit in best to help you along your path.”

Hermione quietly contemplated that. Ron spoke aloud “I’ll be in Gryffindor for sure. My whole family has for years. At least, I really hope I am; I don’t know what they’d think of me if I wasn’t.”

“If your family really love you, Ron, then they won’t care what house you go to at school. It’s hardly forever.” Neville reassured him.

They trotted up the stone stairway and out of a door into a large corridor, portraits all over the walls gawking at them. Hermione, and a few other students, gawked back in fascination. Professor McGonagall was waiting to receive them. Hagrid went by her quickly, a quick exchange of words, and strode quickly off ahead down the corridor. McGonagall waved the group together.

“Welcome, all of you, to Hogwarts. After your journey, I’m sure you are all very hungry.” she began. A murmur of agreement rippled through the students. She rose a hand for quiet, her stern visage doing the rest of the work for her “You shall be fed soon. But first we have the sorting ceremony, where you will each be placed into the house that best suits you. Come along.” she lead them down the corridor, in the same direction Hagrid had gone.

The students followed her quietly, still whispering to one another. She lead them out of the corridor into a large entrance hall, and before them was a huge pair of wooden double doors. As she approached, a wand wave caused them to slowly open. Noise burst out of the great hall, quickly diminishing as the current students noticed the newcomers. They bundled together as the doors closed behind them. The professor turned to them again. “Wait here. I will call your names to be sorted, and then you may sit at the table of your assigned house. Try not to be nervous, now!” She left them there and crossed the hall to the far end. Harry could seemingly not help but be rather nervous anyway, and by the looks of it everyone else was in the same boat.

As the professor reached the far end of the hall, she stopped near a stool with a very old looking hat on it. That must be the sorting hat, Harry mused. Supposedly the school founders had first enchanted it, so it was no surprise it looked the way it did. As Harry watched, a torn hole above the brim opened up like a mouth, and the hat, unexpectedly, began to  _ sing _ , in a deep, baritone voice:

_   
_ _ "Oh you may not think I'm pretty, _ _   
_ _ But don't judge on what you see, _ _   
_ _ I'll eat myself if you can find _ _   
_ _ A smarter hat than me. _

_   
_ _ You can keep your bowlers black, _ _   
_ _ Your top hats sleek and tall, _ _   
_ _ For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat _ _   
_ _ And I can cap them all. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ There's nothing hidden in your head _ _   
_ _ The Sorting Hat can't see, _ _   
_ _ So try me on and I will tell you _ _   
_ _ Where you ought to be. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ You might belong in Gryffindor, _ _   
_ _ Where dwell the brave at heart, _ _   
_ _ Their daring, nerve, and chivalry _ _   
_ _ Set Gryffindors apart; _ _   
_ _   
_ _ You might belong in Hufflepuff, _ _   
_ _ Where they are just and loyal, _ _   
_ _ Those patient Hufflepuffs are true _ _   
_ _ And unafraid of toil; _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, _ _   
_ _ if you've a ready mind, _ _   
_ _ Where those of wit and learning, _ _   
_ _ Will always find their kind; _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Or perhaps in Slytherin _ _   
_ _ You'll make your real friends, _ _   
_ _ Those cunning folks use any means _ _   
_ _ To achieve their ends. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ So put me on! Don't be afraid! _ _   
_ _ And don't get in a flap! _ __   
_ You're in safe hands (though I have none) _ _   
_ __ For I'm a Thinking Cap!”

Then the hat went quiet again. It certainly seemed to sum up the expected house virtues, though that didn’t help Harry figure out where he’d end up anyway. He figured Hermione was a sure shot for Ravenclaw, at the very least. He didn’t think any of the others would be Slytherin, but he thought he might end up there; he  _ had _ been determined to do his dad proud more than anything else, if that counts as ambition. Probably.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward, reading from a parchment in her hand. “Abbot, Hannah.” she called out loudly.

From among then, a blonde haired girl shuffled through to the front, and walked up across the hall to Professor McGonagall. McGonagall lifted the hat, and directed the girl to sit on the stool, whereupon she replaced the hat on her head.

A few moments of silence passed, before the hat cried “Hufflepuff!” out to the hall. The Hufflepuff table cheered loudly, as Hannah quickly walked to them and took a seat in an opening that they creates on the bench.

“Bones, Susan.” McGonagall called again. This time a red haired girl strode across the hall, a little more confidently. Once again she took the stool, and the hat was put on her. The hat seemed to deliberate a bit longer than before, but nonetheless once again cried out “Hufflepuff!”. Susan quickly joined Hannah at the table, once again to cheering.

Now that everyone began to know what to expect, they became a bit less nervous and more excited about where the hat would place them. As ‘Goyle, Gregory’ went up for his sorting, Harry nudged his friends. “Hey, I like you guys. Let’s try to stay friends, even if we get sorted differently, alright?” They all quietly agreed with him as they watched the sorting to “Slytherin!”

Harry wondered if he was being selfish, asking them like that. He was just nervous if they did end up elsewhere, which seemed highly likely, that he’d be lacking for friends, and without another train journey, he wasn’t sure how to go about making more. Unbeknownst to Harry, they largely felt similarly to himself.

“Granger, Hermione.” was the next call out. Hermione, though nervous, steeled herself and strode forth from the crowd. Professor McGonagall gave her a small, subtle smile as she sat on the stool. Then the hat went down.

Harry and the others watched with bated breath. The hat seemed to wriggle a little in deliberation. Murmurs broke out about the ‘hat stall’. Hermione kept her eyes shut in seeming concentration on her inner thoughts.

Eventually, Hermione opened her eyes, and the hat opened its ‘mouth’. It hesitated a moment with a sort of weird smile, as if amusing itself by the crowds’ reactions. And then…”Gryffindor!”

The table erupted in cheers as Hermione stole her way over, feeling a little embarrassed, but that was soon covered up by the camaraderie of the house table.

Ron gave her a thumbs up from the waiting students.

Daphne Greengrass was next, sorted into Slytherin. And then…

“Hagrid, Harry.”

Some mutters and confusion went through the student body as they looked round at Hagrid, sat on the teachers’ table. He smiled and gave a small wave, feeling unable to do nothing at all under such attention. Then Hagrid’s eyes looked to Harry, and gave him a small nod.

Harry nervously stepped forward, and then Ron nudged him to keep going. The muttering died down now among the established students; they’d known to expect this, Harry was hardly a secret. The first years continued to find the subject of a staff members child as a cohort rather interesting, however.

“ _ Quiet _ .” ordered Professor McGonagall. They quickly became muted. Harry took his seat, and the hat sat on his mess of hair.

And then a deep voice piped up in his head. He supposed this must be what the hat did while students sat there and waited.

“Veeerrry interesting.” the hat said in his mind. “Where to put you?”

Harry wondered what houses the hat considered.

“Gryffindor and Slytherin.” spoke the hat. Harry jumped slightly that it had heard unintentional thoughts.

He felt the hat brush that thought off; almost every single candidate went through a similar thought and realisation process.

Harry wasn’t sure what he wanted; his dad remained skeevy of the Slytherin house despite his attempts to portray all houses as equal and respectable choices. Professor Dumbledore did a rather better job of true impartiality in that regard. Harry just thought he should go where was best, friends or otherwise, though he didn’t really want to be split up, to be honest. It’s not like his two other friends had even be sorted yet, and who knew where they’d go.

The hat hummed and hawed over his thoughts for a while. He wondered if he’d be here as long as Hermione had been.

“You would be well suited to either house; you have qualities emboldened by both. Wherever you go, remember that, won’t you? It would not do to neglect any useful part of your character.” the hat told him.

Harry considered that, and accepted it. Wherever he went… he just hoped Hermione would still have some friends. She worried him the most.

“Well then…” the hat thought to him for the last time. “Better pick one…” It mulled it over for a moment more. “Gryffindor!” it shouted out at last.

The table cheered, Hermione clapping as Harry came over to sit with her. He grinned at her as she smiled back with seeming relief; she had been worried after all. He noticed his dad clapping extra loudly for him. He couldn’t help but wave.

The noise soon died down again as Professor McGonagall continued with the names. “Longbottom, Neville.” was soon announced.

Harry and Hermione watched with bated breath as the hat deliberated.

Eventually it made its decision. “Gryffindor!” it called out.

They shuffled to allow him room to join them. He sat with them, smiling. As the noise died down, he whispered conspiratorially “It almost put me in Hufflepuff!”

“And me in Ravenclaw! I wonder if it always does that?” Hermione said.

“It didn’t know whether to put me in Gryffindor or not. Maybe it’s just messing with us?” said Harry.

“I’m just glad we’re all together. It’s just Ron now, and he said his whole family have been here, so…” said Hermione.

A short while later Ron took his place on the stool. The hat didn’t take too long before declaring “Gryffindor!” for him. Ron hustled over to his friends. He looked a bit put out.

“Thank goodness  _ that’s _ over with. And you’re all here too! Isn’t that great?” he said.

“Sure, Ron, but what’s wrong? You look a bit annoyed.” asked Neville.

“Nothings wrong.” Ron ground out under his breath. Then he leant on the table, relief sinking in. He eyed his twin brothers suspiciously as they waved.

It wasn’t long after Ron’s sorting that they finished up the other students.

As the last one took his seat, Dumbledore stood up. He cast  _ Sonorus _ on his throat.

“Greetings to all of you, our new students! May we bid them a Hogwarts welcome!” he said. The hall descended into a cacophony of cheers, clapping and congratulations. Dumbledore allowed it a few moments more before calling for hush.

“Now, I am sure you are all very hungry, so just a few short announcements. As always, the forbidden forest is in fact, forbidden for your own safety. The 3rd floor corridor is strictly out of bounds, as you may find your life in jeopardy otherwise.” he fixed the room with a firm look to emphasise this point. “Now all of the announcements are done, a few words: nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak! Thank you.” he retook his seat with some applause.

It was just that moment that a glorious feast began appearing before them on the tables. Attention quickly diverted, everyone promptly attacked the food; the first years especially hungry and tired after their long journey. A large selection of meats, vegetables and condiments lay before them.

As they dug in to the rich food, three red-headed boys sat themselves down opposite them. 

“Well, hello hello, if it isn’t-”

“-our ickle Ronniekins!” the two twins said.

“Are these your-”

“-new friends then?”

Ah, this must be Fred and George, wondered Harry. Is being Ron’s friend more or less likely to make me a target?

A slightly taller redhead spoke up “Welcome to Gryffindor, Ronald. If you need anything, I’ll be about. I’m-”

“-a prefect.” George cut him off.

“So behave or else!” said Fred, waggling a finger.

“...quite.” Conceded Percy. His mantra for dealing with the twins (or trying to) had been eroded down to ‘pick your battles’.

Ron groaned mentally at his brothers’ antics. And outwardly. Neville nudged him.

“Go on, Ron. Introduce us to your brothers.” he said.

“You  _ did _ just see them get sorted, right?” asked Ron. Without waiting for Percy to explain the ‘niceties’, Ron pointed to his friends “Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Harry Hagrid.”

“How’d ya do.” echoed the twins in unison. Then they leaned towards Harry.

“Hey, can we-”

“-see the scar?”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Oh, please.” they both said.

Harry decided to acquiesce. “But just this once, okay? Because it’s gonna get really old.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much. This house is full of those with short attention spans. No one will care after a week.” Percy stated.

Harry lifted up his fringe so they could see. It felt like half the house leaned over for a quick look. He turned about so they could get a good look, and then dropped his hair and went straight for his plate.

A couple of moans were heard across the table. This irritated Harry, but the others decided to change the conversation. Hermione leaned forwards across the table towards Percy “So how do you become a prefect, then? I should very much like to do so. As long as I get the best marks I can everywhere else, of course.”

Percy nodded at her. “Very good, Hermione. It is good that someone who takes their studies seriously has found their way to our house; it could use some more sensibility…”

Meanwhile, the twins were regaling the boys with some of their latest pranks at the end of last year.

“...and so I snuck the itching powder into the drawer, and then-”

“-the finishing touches of our ‘frothing’ fizzbees were swapped with…”

~~~

Hagrid watched Harry from his seat at the head table. He smiled to himself as he ate; he had been nervous at first, but it looked like Harry already had a set of friends, and they were all together in the same house to boot! Hagrid watched their conversation fondly; Harry was fortunate to have made a friend of one of the Weasley’s. Which, naturally, meant he’d end up friends with most of them, certainly a good thing. Maybe this way he could get some insider knowledge on Molly Weasley’s famous cooking; Hagrid enjoyed cooking meals at home, but felt he could do better sometimes. Not that Harry ever complained.

He was also inwardly pleased and relieved that Harry had gone to the predicted Gryffindor house after all. No house was  _ bad _ , of course, and Hagrid knew he shouldn’t try to influence where Harry would end up. All the same, he couldn’t help but feel some reservations towards Slytherin… no offense, he thought to Severus. Severus raised an eyebrow at him, then returned to his own food, ignoring him. Wait, he didn’t say something, did he?

Either way, he had had his concerns that Harry would go to Slytherin; he was an ambitious young lad with some good ideas, though he wasn't sure that alone would be enough for the house. His parselmouth abilities were also a not insignificant factor in Hagrid’s fears; rumoured to prove a line of descent from Salazar Slytherin himself. Hagrid was somewhat sceptical of Slytherin being the only progenitor of a hereditary ability like that, but wizarding Britain was fairly close knit and the lack of other  _ known _ expressors of parseltongue made him think again.

Hagrid looked to Severus again. “Eh, Severus.’ he said. “Disappointed Harry’s not in yer house?”

“Not particularly.” Severus said, not taking his eyes off his plate as he delicately cut up some mushrooms. “It is easier to remain impartial to Harry if he is not primarily of my concern. Or as I should say, the young Mr. Hagrid.”

That made sense, Hagrid supposed. He turned to look at Minerva, chatting to Dumbledore, and then back to Severus. “Wha’ ‘bout ‘er, then?” he asked, spearing an entire sausage on his oversized fork.

“Of all the professors, I expect Minerva is especially good at distancing her professional and social activities. I do not expect she will have any difficulties being appropriately strict with Hagrid, should it come to it.” Severus said. “I believe that that would be most appropriate for young Hagrid’s benefit anyway; it is quite clear he wants to avoid special attention as much as possible, given his past experiences.”

Growing up a wizarding icon had presented its difficulties, mused Hagrid. A few too many over-eager run ins had left Harry with a rather dim view of his ‘fans’, and indeed anyone else who fixated on that one event, important and astonishing as it was. He noticed Harry flick up his hair for the excitement of the Gryffindors, and frowned in concern. But as he watched, conversation seemed to continue as normal. Yes, it seemed Harry would be just fine in Gryffindor.

“Thanks, Severus.” said Hagrid, suddenly feeling quite relieved; he hadn’t quite realised how anxious he’d been. “I do think ‘Arry will get along jus’ fine, I’m sure of it.”


	6. Chapter 6

On their way to their first lesson, Harry chatted excitedly with his friends.

Everyone has been pretty tired when they finally finished dinner and were lead to the Gryffindor common room, shown around (Harry particularly liked the good sized fireplace and accompanying furnishings), and shown to their dorms. Harry managed to claim a 3 bed berth for them to share together. So it was that they quickly went to bed after that.

This morning had yielded an enjoyable traditional breakfast with sausages, hash, bubble and squeak, eggs cooked in various ways, and of course, a helping of pumpkin juice. They were now on their way to the first class, Potions with Professor Snape. Ron was not best pleased with this.

“Our first class and it’s with the  _ Slytherins _ , with the  _ Slytherin _ head of house. Typical.” Ron lamented.

Harry wasn’t sure how to feel about that; Professor Snape wasn’t the most popular teacher, but there was no reason to really hate him he could think of.

“What’s wrong with Slytherin anyway?” Harry asked him.

“The enmity between Gryffindor and Slytherin is well known,” stated Hermione, no doubt quoting her cooy of  _ Hogwarts: A History _ “The house values clash somewhat, and beyond that the prejudices are self sustaining across the years. Considering Ronald here has an entire family of Gryffindors, it’s not hard to see why he feels the way he does.”

Ron looked a bit affronted at the implied accusation. “I’m not an idiot, Hermione. Slytherin’s known as the house to turn out the most dark wizards. You-know-who for one. And Malfoy.”

Considering his near placement there, Harry was starting to feel a bit upset. Neville wasn’t totally oblivious, however, unsure though he was to why Harry would be at all upset about Ron’s opinion of another house.

“Look, Ron, just be sensible and give them a chance. Sure we don’t like Malfoy but he’s the only one we’ve really spoken to so far. And Harry doesn’t hate Professor Snape either, does he?” he said.

Harry gave Neville a thankful smile. “Exactly. He’s really not bad, once you get to know him. I like him. And I like  _ you _ , Ron. Give him a chance.”

“Okay okay, forget I said anything.” Ron said. He frowned with thought.

Shortly they arrived at the potions classroom. They joined the waiting huddle outside. Hermione opened the door and peered round, seeing no one there.

“Should we sit down and get ready?” she asked.

“No.” A blonde Slytherin girl spoke up. “The potions classroom contains potentially dangerous stuff. Professor Snape would be mad. And I don’t want to see him mad.” Harry recognised the girl as Daphne Greengrass from the sorting.

It was just then that Malfoy turned up.

“Well of  _ course _ she doesn’t realise that. Being a Muggleborn and all. I don’t know why you bothered, Greengrass.” He said, with the usual air of superiority.

Hermione was tempted to angrily retort, but thought of Neville’s example on the bus; getting angry at Malfoy would solve nothing, and probably just be what he wanted anyway.

“I was just curious if we were trusted enough, that’s all. At my school, the older students were allowed in the laboratory unsupervised.” she calmly explained.

Daphne ignored Malfoy and turned to Hermione. “You went to school already?” she asked.

Harry watched amusedly as Hermione began explaining the Muggle education system, Malfoy evidently having the wind taken out of his sails and looking frustrated and confused. Oddly, Harry noticed Ron hadn’t really got involved, he still seemed to be introspective since the Slytherin argument.

It was just then that Professor Snape swept around the corner. “Follow me and sit down.” he told them as he strode past into the classroom.

~~~

Snape took his position at the front of the potions lab as his students dawdled with their petty arguments over seating arrangements. Thankfully, they got on with it before he lost patience with them.

The potions lab was something of a stuffy room; no doubt years of exposure to potion fumes had left their mark on the space. A large double door set to the side of the room contained all the students’ cauldrons: the elves will have deposited the new ones here yesterday evening. Stacks of shelves, cupboards and drawers held the safer ingredients most often used in the lower level classes.

Snape turned to the class to address them. He noticed a few looks directed Harry’s way. Hm.

“Welcome to Potions. For now, there will be little wand use, so you may be under the false delusion that there is no magic involved in this class. You could not be farther from the truth. There is much magic in potion making; I would not expect you to yet understand the beauty of a softly simmering potion with its wavering fumigations, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, or ensnaring the senses. I can teach you to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death -  _ provided- _ ” Snape slammed down his palm on the front desk to emphasise his point, and ensure he had their attention “-that you listen closely, practice with due diligence, and treat this laboratory with the  _ utmost _ respect. I will not tolerate foolishness of any kind: no playing about with ingredients you may consider  _ amusing _ , or sabotaging each other’s work; I will have you thrown out  _ immediately.  _ The consequences of such idiocy could be potentially  _ lethal _ .”

“ _ Have _ I made myself quite clear?” he finished.

The rather subdued set of students all nodded. Good; it was vital to establish his authority, and vital rules for the sake of safety.

He cast his gaze across the room. He eyed the potions textbooks most of the class had had the good sense to prepare.

“I do hope you’ve all done the forward reading I would expect of you. Hagrid, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

He saw Harry think for a moment. He did hope Harry had got as far so to read his note-

“A really strong sleeping potion?” Harry asked.

Snape sneered slightly. “Are you asking  _ me _ , Hagrid?” Harry promptly shook his head.

“The Draught of Living Death, it is known as. And were I to tell you to find me a bezoar, where would you look?” he asked again.

Harry was rather quicker with this one. “A goat’s stomach, sir.” Naturally the animal related one he’d remember better.

Snape just nodded his confirmation. “And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfbane?”

Harry evidently tried hard to think, but in the end… “I don’t know, sir.”

“Hm. Evidently, fame. Isn’t. Everything. You would do well to remember that.” he directed this at Harry, but hoped the rest of the class would get the hint. Harry’s face looked blank at that; good. He didn’t truly intend to upset him. “It does seem you did some forward reading then. Does anyone  _ else _ know the answer?”

A few hesitant hands went up, as another confidently shot upwards. The bushy haired girl seemed keen. He waved at her to answer. “And your name, miss…?”

“Hermione Granger, sir. Monkshood and wolfsbane are the same plant.” she uttered breathlessly. Snape raised an eyebrow at her. “It is also known as aconite.” she finishes.

“...very good.” Snape said. “A point each to Gryffindor. Now, I  _ do  _ hope you’re writing this information down…” there was a flurry of activity as notebooks and parchments came out of bags. Snape then did a quick roll call of the class.

Snape began writing on the blackboard with chalk. “When you’ve finished, prepare your cauldrons, and turn to page eleven. We shall begin with a simple anti-itching potion. You may assist one another in pairs as you are currently seated.” The book contained a simple outline of the potion that was acceptable, but a truly skilled potioneer could amend the recipe for different effects; Snape wrote such a potential amendment on the board for those who were prepared to attempt it: what would happen if the dried mosquitos were ground up before adding to the potion instead of just dropping them in?

The majority of students seemed able to handle this first attempt without too much correction. The Longbottom boy was making a bit of a muddle of things, but Harry seemed to be able to maintain control and correct him. Draco had taken charge of his potion and was ordering Crabbe about somewhat, who’s own cauldron was still empty. He stood over him “Malfoy you may ask for Crabbe’s assistance, but you shouldn’t prevent him from doing his own work. I expect you to help him complete his own potion before the lesson is finished.” he moved on, as Malfoy told Crabbe in a low voice to get a move on and get some more ingredients for his own potion.

As most of the potions neared completion, produced a brace of stinging nettles from his desk, and set them upright on it. “If you wish to test your potions, you may sting yourself with these nettles in order to do so. However, I can inspect your work otherwise myself if you do not.” Snape was not inclined to force pain, however slight, onto his students, but it would serve a good learning experience if they opted for it. “Do bear in mind that if you failed to follow the given instructions, or interfered with another’s potion without their knowledge, serious harm could be incurred. I expect you to inform me if you have done either of these things.” he glared at the class, but no one said anything. He would be furious if it turned out anyone had lied. Truthfully, short of deliberate sabotage by an experienced potion maker, there was nothing the students could do now with this particular recipe that would actually cause major harm as a side effect.

He gestured towards a layout of ladles and letter labelled beakers on a side table. The students mingled and chatted as they poured their potions into beakers, a few ending up on his desk to inspect, but most students opting for the stinging test. Snape rolled his eyes at the students who squeaked or yelped at their masochistic tendencies. Many of them quite quickly took their potions, with not too much complaints; Snape had made sure to choose a fairly neutral tasting potion to begin with.

As he waited for the majority to finish with the nettle, Snape inspected the beakers presented to him. He eyed them, sniffed them, and swilled them; all these things could tell an expert something about the brewing process. He made quick notes for each one… too much nettle root, overheated, underheated slightly, dock leaves not chopped finely enough, and so on, as well as an overall grade and mark.

The stinging students were getting into a minor argument; some of them noticed relief quicker than others from the stings. Of Hagrid’s friends, Snape noticed that Weasley and Longbottom were both complaining of their itchiness still, despite having taken their potion before Hagrid and Granger.

“All of you, you may be seated.” Snape spoke aloud, quelling any further mutterings with a swiftly directed look. As they took their seats, Snape explained “As intended, those who tested the potion directly noticed some differences in results, primarily how quickly the potion took effect. If you would care to remember whether or not you followed  _ my _ suggestion,” he pointed to the board “you would find that your compatriots who did so found a quicker result from drinking their potions. So you can see the malleability of potions for any intended purpose. But I repeat,  _ do not _ invent your own ‘alterations’ for potions. For example, boiling the nettle root prior to adding it to the cauldron would result in it worsening your symptoms. Ask me if you think you have a ‘hunch’.”

Snape looked about the room at the students. “That is all for today. You may go. Except you Hagrid.”

The students all begun to file out. Harry’s friends hesitated a bit before he waved them off. Nothing to worry about. Harry walked up to Snape’s desk as he sat down behind it and waited.

“I take it you enjoyed your first lesson?” he asked.

“Yes sir, very much!” said Harry.

“Indeed? Good. I am pleased you made the effort to do some forward reading.” Snape said. Harry smiled as Snape rummaged in his desk and withdrew a slip of paper, scrutinising it.

“Your father wanted me to give you a message,” Snape said, “to go and see him after your classes today, he wishes to hear about your first day, and you may take any friends of yours with you.” He threw a glance at the doorway where noses were peering round the edge. They swiftly retreated. Snape sighed. “If you would also take him this jar of dried salamanders, you would be doing me a favour.”

Harry took the jar and pocketed it safely in his robes. “I’ll give it to him when I see him later. Thank you sir!” he said as he got up and headed out the lab. He heard a faint ‘obviously’ follow him out the room, where he walked straight into Ron who had been right round the corner.

“Argh- why are you right here??” asked Harry, annoyed.

“Just making sure you’re safe from the Slytherin head!” Ron stropped. He threw up his arms and wandered off down the corridor. Everyone else followed.

“Considering how the lesson went quite well, and Professor Snape made sure we were safe regardless of our houses, I’m not sure what your problem is, Ron.” said Hermione.

“She’s right, and I don’t think I did all that well. Professor Snape gave me a P, but he told Malfoy off!” Neville chimed in.

Ron did a heel turn and rounded on them “He’s just buttering you up! They’re cunning, aren’t they, Slytherins? Always awful and lying! Not like  _ us _ who are honest and brave Gryffindors!” Ron shouted at them. His face scrunched up in fury, before he stomped away towards the Transfiguration class.

Harry just stood there, watching him go. He tried not to cry; that would be ridiculous. Hermione gave him a quizzical look as Neville stood by.

Harry sniffed and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. He looked about, and leaned closer to them. He whispered, “The hat almost put me in Slytherin!” Hermione drew back looking rather surprised, whereas Neville just looked at him, his suspicions confirmed.. “I know you both don’t mind,” Harry continued, “but what would Ron do if he knew? He clearly hates Slytherin!”

Hermione crossed her arms and huffed. “He’s being ridiculous. I just think he has to despise everything to do with Malfoy. I can’t think of any other reason he’d hate Slytherin so much when Professor Snape was perfectly fair.”

“Other than the fact his entire family has been Gryffindor?” Neville said. “They have a long running enmity with the Malfoys too, at least, their dads hate each other. Maybe he just feels like he has to or something.”

Harry sighed. “...maybe. Come on, we don’t want to be late for Transfiguration.” The trio walked swiftly following the path Ron had taken.

~~~

Minerva McGonagall the cat sat on the desk, watching the students file in and take seats, as per the note on the door. The occasional one looked at her, but she was quickly dismissed as just a castle cat.

It never got old.

The senses of the cat that were heightened compared to being human were also quite useful for gauging the students. It was easier to listen in on their hushed conversations and to pick up on the subtler body language. Though maybe that was because no one noticed or questioned when a cat was paying you close attention too much.

The youngest Weasley entered and took a seat by himself. He seemed in a bad mood. He’d have to get over it shortly. Shortly afterward, young Mr. Hagrid entered with his two other friends. Longbottom sat with Weasley, whereas Hagrid and Granger sat together nearby.

Naturally, Hagrid gave her a close look and grinned, but when Granger asked him what was up, he just told her that he was excited for the class to start. McGonagall found that quite amusing.

After another minute or so it was time to start class; everyone from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw was accounted for (she had been subtly clawing their names off on a parchment she was sat on). She sat back on her haunches, then launched into the air and smoothly transformed into her usual self amidst gasps of surprise and astonishment, as well as “That was bloody brilliant.” from Weasley.

“Language, Mr. Weasley. Though the sentiment is appreciated.” she told him. Maybe he’d forget whatever put him in a bad mood. She turned and strode to the blackboard, and began writing.

“Welcome to Transfiguration. In this class we shall learn about the several arts of transfiguration, and how to apply them.” Professor McGonagall began.

“Transfiguration, at the most basic level, is simply change. The most readily well known is the changing of form, such as what I myself just showed you. Can anyone tell me what it was that I showed you?”

She noticed Harry declined to offer a hand. Understandable, especially if Severus already singled him out. A few hands were up, Granger the only Gryffindor.

She selected a random Ravenclaw. “Yes, Miss. Patil?”

“The Animagus transformation.” she stated.

Minerva nodded “Quite right, Miss Patil, a point for Ravenclaw. The Animagus transformation differs from more standard human-animal transfigurations, and the reverse, in three distinct ways. Can anyone tell me what those are?” she asked the class.

The same hands went up again. She asked Miss Granger first, otherwise she might hurt herself from the strain of trying to answer.

“You don’t need a wand.” Granger told her.

“A point to Gryffindor. Two more, class.” she scanned the remaining hands. “Mr. Boot?”

“You can’t choose the animal?” he said.

“A point to Ravenclaw. And lastly?” she prompted.

She was pleased to see Hagrid, somewhat hesitantly, raise a hand this time. “Yes, Mr. Hagrid?”

“You keep your mind fully.” he said.

“Another point for Gryffindor.” McGonagall confirmed. “Very good, all of you. I am pleased to see that you have all prepared yourselves adequately.”

“Now, it must be stated that, as you will no doubt hear in other classes, that there is a danger involved in this branch if magic. I  _ will _ remove anyone who fails to follow instructions or messes about. Transfiguration can be difficult magic, and failed attempts can have disastrous consequences. Do you all understand?”

The class murmured and nodded their acknowledgement.

“Very well then.” McGonagall said. “Then let us begin. I expect you to take notes and to listen; we shall attempt a practical transfiguration later in the lesson, and you will need to know this. Now then…”

McGonagall lectured the class, explaining and answering questions, on the basics of transfiguration principle, for a time. When that was covered…

“I hope you all listened well. We will now have our practical session. You each should have a match each on your desks. You should clear your workspace, and try to transfigure the match to a needle. Do remember the difference in properties of wood and metal as you do so. Begin!”

The class began to murmur and converse as they attempted to make the match change. She circulated around the classroom, correcting wand movements and so on, giving advice and reminding them of the principles they’d just covered. As this  _ was _ the first class however, success would be limited; really nothing would overcome the need for practise.

She went by Weasley and Longbottom. Longbottom had failed to impact the match at all, whereas Weasley’s had become entirely covered in the flammable phosphorous coating. McGonagall halted his continued attempts as she inspected it.

“I am not quite sure how this occurred, Mr. Weasley. But perhaps you are thinking along the right lines. Try not to do that again.” she told him, as she pointed her wand at it and the match reverted to it’s starting state.

“Hey! I worked hard on that!” he moaned.

McGonagall pinched her nose.

“Mr. Weasley, you will find the intended transfiguration easier from this point than trying to undo what you did. Impressive though it was.” she said dryly.

Ron seemed bolstered by the somewhat backhanded praise, and renewed his efforts. Longbottom still seemed to be struggling to achieve anything. She observed his method for a moment.

“Perhaps, Mr. Longbottom, you should consider only one aspect of the needle to start with, such as the shine or pointedness of it. You may have more success that way.” McGonagall instructed.

She noticed Longbottom pause to think about that as she moved off to continue her rounds.

Before too long the lesson was drawing to a close. McGonagall stopped at the head of the room and surveyed the students’ efforts. No one had managed a perfect transfiguration, but such a thing was not going to happen anyway. Some efforts were much better than others, of course. She was pleased with Harry’s attempt, the match being silvery in colour and smooth at least. Weasley and Longbottom had not done so well just yet, but there was time to improve of course. Weasley’s attempt was a rather odd outcome though, a basic transfiguration such as this was to a certain extent based on intuitive feelings. She had her suspicions however…

“Wands down, everyone” she announced, “that is the end for today. Leave your name on the desk with your match in whatever state it is in, and I will grade them. Don’t forget your homework to review the theory for today. Class dismissed!”

As the class began to pack up, she strode over to Weasley. “Mr. Weasley, just out of curiosity, where did you get your wand?”

Ron was briefly alarmed she was going to ask him why his match was still untransfigured, but was relieved and a bit confused by what she did ask. “My mum and dad gave me it, professor.”

McGonagall just looked at him.

“It was, uh, my older brothers’ old wand, Charlie I think.” Ron blurted.

The professor looked at him a brief moment longer, and said “...yes, I thought I recognised it. Thanks for elucidating me, Mr. Weasley.” She returned to her desk and sat down to work as the students all filed out to lunch.

~~~

Later that afternoon, the four friends sat in front of the fire of the Gryffindor common room, relaxing. The dark wood panels on the walls reflected the firelight. They had done a little homework together (Ron rather reluctantly but the peer pressure of the other three rather pushed him to it). Harry was thankful that the activity had forestalled more anti-Slytherin talk from Ron. He was worried Ron wouldn’t want to be his friend anymore if he ever knew what the hat said to him.

Percy had come by and actually been rather helpful with giving them some hints. Ron had failed to convince him to just give them some answers. He stopped asking when Percy threatened to involve the twins.

Aside from that, some interest in his person had come from the other first years. The comparative lack of interest from the older students (to whom Harry was no longer a novelty) dissuaded them from being too openly fascinated at the risk of looking foolish; younger children often want to emulate and impress their elder peers. This and exposure to Harry as a comparatively normal student in shared classes had dulled further intrigue.

Harry lay back in his comfortable chair, when he felt something roll in his robe pocket. Confused, he withdrew the jar of dried salamanders. Whoops. He stood up quite suddenly so everyone else looked up at him in mild surprise.

“I forgot to go give this to my dad. I should probably go now or Professor Snape will be annoyed with me for forgetting. Anyone want to come with me?” he asked the group.

~~~

In his hut, Hagrid stirred the pot of stew as it simmered over the fire, which was simmering it gently. Ah, nothing like a slowly cooked stew of grouse. He eyed the large cauldron as he did so, also continuing to simmer. It was hard to tell if much change had occurred in the egg, as the shell was soft and had made him reluctant to lift it up with tongs other than to turn it very gently, but certainly it hadn’t dulled any, so that must be a good sign. He thought it might have changed shape a bit, but the heat distorted his view enough to make him slightly unsure.

He say down in his chair across from the fire, idly stroking Fang’s head with his fingertips as his arm draped over the arm of the chair. He wondered how Harry was doing; his sorting had taken an unusually long time, but after that everything seemed, well, normal. Harry seemed to have made friends as well, all together in the same house. Hagrid didn’t think he could hope for any better for Harry, yet he still worried how the rest of the day had gone. As he was wont to do; he had released several animals back into the wild over the years, nursed to health from injuries, but he had never felt any less nervous each time about how they’d manage afterwards. Nature does as nature does, but it always felt a little personal when you got involved like that. By and large he tried not to, but sometimes it happened anyway. Especially if people seemed to have been the cause…

It was reassuring that his earlier lessons were from Snape and McGonagall, the teachers most familiar to Harry (besides Professor Dumbledore of course), not that any of them were really a cause for concern (apart from Quirrell who had apparently been briefly detained from arriving to Hogwarts in time for the start of term. An auror was covering his lessons briefly). He knew they’d do a good job easing Harry into things, like they do the other first years, but especially so since they know Harry. He’d been concerned Harry would find it harder to adapt than the others as he was already partly familiar with Hogwarts, of course- but more introspection seemed to show that train of thought didn’t actually make much sense. He should really stop worrying so much.

Fang perked his head up, which woke Hagrid up from his thoughts. Fang got up and loped to the door, standing by it expectantly. He must have heard someone familiar coming over.

Sure enough Hagrid heard the chatter of students increasing as they neared the hut. It must be Harry and his new friends, he reckoned.

Opening the door to greet them, Fang pushed his way through the opening and hustled over to say hello. Hagrid waved “‘Ello there!” as the kids were rather distracted by Fang. The girl and the blonde boy were mildly apprehensive, though Harry and the ginger boy were rather more enthusiastic, and Fang enjoyed the attention given to him as Harry chatted about him to the others. Then Hagrid called Fang back in, and wove to the group to come in.

They seemed rather pleased to be in the warm again, as they all looked up at Hagrid as he took his seat. “So then,” he began, “I’m Rubeus Hagrid as I’m sure you know already. ‘Course yeh c’n just be callin’ me Hagrid.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully through his thick beard as he looked at them, having sat down on stools Harry had pulled out for them. “Say, are you Ronald Weasley, by chance?” he asked.

“How does  _ everyone _ seem to know that?” gesticulated Ron “Um, sir.”

Hagrid beamed at him “Now I’m no ‘sir’, you all jus’ call me Hagrid, as I said.” Harry’s friends seemed to relax a little at that. “I knew your family quite well in the past, y’see, and I remember you bein’ born…”

Ron looked at him curiously, a bit thoughtful.

“An’ ‘ow about you two then, hm?” Hagrid posed to the girl and blonde boy.

Hermione sat up straight “Well, I’m Hermione Granger, and this is Neville Longbottom.” she indicated to the boy sat next to her. “Um, hello.” Neville muttered.

“And hello to you both!” Hagrid exclaimed. “I remember you bein’ born too, o’ ‘course Longbottom, but I’m not recognising your family name at all, miss Granger?”

Harry rolled his eyes “She’s Muggleborn, dad!”

Hagrid chuckled to himself. “Oh, of course, I am sorry miss Granger.”

“They do have first names y’know, dad.” Harry said.

“Well o’ course, I was tryin’ ter be all perfessional like. But I don’t really mind, what do you three think?” Hagrid asked them, leaning forward.

Neville looked over the other two. “We’d be happy for that.”

Hagrid sagged a little in his chair. “That’s a bit of a relief ter be honest. Felt a bit weird bein’ so formal like with Harry’s friends.” He stood up and went to move the stew about a bit. He looked at it a moment, then turned to the group. “Say, would you like to stay fer dinner? Save you running off too soon, unless you want ter.”

Ron’s stomach rumbled loudly. Everyone laughed as he looked just a little sheepish about it.

“Oi’ll take that as a yes then. Pull up to table, an’ I’ll spoon you all up some stew.” he said as he began fetching bowls from the cupboards.

Ron leaned over to Harry as they sat down again at the large table. “What’s your dad’s cooking like?” he asked eagerly. The other two leaned in to listen.

“Just brilliant!” Harry replied, turning around in his chair to ask “What’s today?”

“Grouse an’ some mushrooms, mainly.” Hagrid said as he took four bowls, and a fifth much larger, over to the stew to fill up, then returned with the filled bowls of delicious smelling stew. It looked good too as Hagrid lowered them onto the table.

Fang lazed in front of the fire as everyone began to eat their meal. Hagrid was very pleased at the positive reception to his cooking from everyone.

“So then Harry, everyone, ‘ow was your first day at Hogwarts?” Hagrid asked everyone.

He listened as they told him about their day. They had a nice breakfast, slept well and mostly enjoyed their lessons with Snape, Minerva and Filius (they’d all made acceptable attempts at the first charm,  _ Wingardium leviosa _ , which was very much not levio- _ sah _ ); this reminded Harry to give Hagrid the jar of salamanders, which he thanked him for and then put in a coat pocket. Ron moaned a bit about Slytherins before Hagrid corrected him that the reputation was a bit unjust (Snape was something of a friend of his, after all, having just sent him the requested salamanders), and that bad wizards came from other houses too.

“-I even personally knew one of ‘em. Sirius Black was the name, he was in Gryffindor. Rotten sod’s locked up away in Azkaban where ‘e belongs.” Hagrid grumbled.

Hermione looked a little lost as everyone nodded in commiseration. Ron and Neville looked at Harry in concern, but he waved them off; this wasn’t news to him particularly. Ron proceeded to explain:

“Black was the Potters’, Harry’s mother and father, Secret Keeper: a powerful spell that hides homes from everyone unless the Keeper tells you where it is. And you know what happened; You-Know-Who. Black betrayed the Potters’ trust, then ran away and murdered a bunch of Muggles and another wizard who chased after him.”

A moment of silence passed over the table.

“...had no idea he was Gryffindor.” Ron muttered.

“Not surprised,” Hagrid said, “folks don’ much like ter talk ‘bout it. ‘Is school ‘ouse doesn’t matter much to what he did and who ‘e was in the end, does it?”

The mood was pensive again before a croak interrupted them. Neville struggled with the lump moving about in his pocket.

“You have a toad then, Neville?” Hagrid asked, interested.

Neville fumbled Trevor out onto the table, and nodded. “I think I’m going to let him go though, he doesn’t like me at all. Never has.”

Hagrid, looking askance at Neville, scooped up the toad (who complained with a squeak) and examined him closely.

“Looks like a wizard’s toad ter me. I’m guessin’ he used to be someone else’s then?” Neville confirmed that it was formerly his uncle’s. “Toads often are reluctant to have new masters, ‘specially if ‘e didn’t pass away, so don’ take it personal. If you’re sure you want to let ‘im go, Oi’ll take him to a good pond in the forest when I go out later.” said Hagrid.

Neville nodded and muttered his thanks, as Hagrid placed Trevor into one of his own pockets for now.

Light conversation flowed over the table after that. Ron brought up that he also had a pet, a rat called Scabbers, that was an old family pet, but he’d stayed sleeping on the bed in Gryffindor tower for now. The kids elaborated a bit more on their lessons and experiences in their new house, and then they talked a bit about Harry growing up here with Hagrid, and what all their home lives were like.

As they finished dinner, Harry asked his dad if he could show his friends his room. Seeing as they were finished, Hagrid acquiesced, and they all trotted off to Harry’s room.

Hagrid got up and began tidying up. Some simple spells made cleaning the dining ware easy, with a quick  _ Scourgio  _ to make sure afterwards. As he stowed away the jar of salamanders in the cupboard, he reflected on the day. He was delighted at how his son’s first real day had gone, and he already seemed to have made a great group of friends! Two of which from families he knew were good, remembering vaguely interacting with them at Order of the Phoenix meetings.

Truly he could not have wished for any better. He definitely felt more relaxed now than he had been for a few days, at any rate. He hadn’t even noticed the background level of stress. He knew he worried too much about Harry, but he was just so small, he thought, looking at the bedroom door and hearing the muffled voices through it.

Well, maybe less that and more that he himself was abnormally large, as it were. But he knew he had to be aware of that difference when it came to making sure Harry was comfortable. It had helped him accommodate other wizards too; these days his rock cakes were rather more popular. At least the ones he didn’t make just for himself!

Eventually the kids came out of Harry’s room, on the way out, Hermione poked her nose over the cauldron rim. “That’s a strange looking egg, are you cooking it?” she asked.

“Ah!” Hagrid said, coming over to look in on it with the children. “That’s an Ashwinder egg! I ain’t heard’ve anyone even  _ tryin’ _ ter hatch ‘em before, so when we found one I thought I’d give it a go.” Hagrid left out the further details; he didn’t want to accidentally reveal Harry’s parselmouth abilities if he wasn’t ready. “Is why I asked Professor Snape for those salamanders, best thing I can think of ter feed it if it hatches.”

Hagrid looked down at Harry with his arms folded. “And someone learn’t not ter be silly with the Floo powder, did’n’ they?” he said. Harry looked mildly abashed. Everyone laughed a bit.

At that, Hagrid glanced out the window. It was starting to darken outside.

“Well then,” he said, “I reckon you ought ter be getting back to the castle by now, alroight?”

Everyone began getting ready to go. Before they left, Harry went up to his dad for a great big hug. Hagrid squeezed him, firmly but gently; he had been a little worried Harry wouldn’t want to be affectionate in front of his friends, so he was pleased to see that Harry was unbothered. Harry began squirming a little, so Hagrid released him, but not before kissing him on the head. Harry smiled up at him.

“You can all get back alright?” Hagrid asked the group.

“Of course we can, we got here alright didn’t we?” said Ron.

Hagrid nodded, Ron was right. Maybe he shouldn’t worry quite so much. With that, he opened the door for them and, after reminding them that they are always welcome to visit, exchanged goodbyes as they left and headed back up to the castle. Hagrid watched a moment before going back inside.

Hagrid stood there wistfully. He’d had a pleasant evening with his son, reassuring after his worry about Harry beginning his schooling, and meeting his friends. Friends! They seemed like they’d become very close already, seldom he was so pleased that Harry had any at all! That had been one of his largest concerns to begin with; not being a student in the dorms or lessons, as well as his younger age than the students, had alienated him from them somewhat.

He looked about the room. The quiet was quite noticeable now. Harry had never been a  _ loud  _ child per sé, but Hagrid hadn’t really lived alone for over a decade now. He’d been used to it before, but now felt a little melancholy, the noise and laughter of all four children suddenly being silence, aside from the gentle fire crackling and Fang huffing near it. There was nothing to be done for it, however.

He was very glad to have Fang, though. He was 14 now, but still not showing many signs of ageing. Given that he’d come from a wizarding breeder to begin with, it was quite likely there was some Crup in his ancestry somewhere, which would explain his healthy long life.

Hagrid sat on the warm cobbled floor by Fang, who lolloped his head onto his leg and hummed contentedly, as Hagrid stroked his head and ears softly.

~~~

Three of the four friends chatted idly as they headed across the grass back to the castle. Neville remained unusually quiet. Hermione broke off the conversation to ask him what was wrong.

“Hey Neville, you’ve been quiet since we left. Is something wrong?” she asked. The group stopped and looked at Neville.

“Uh, no nothing, I think, um…” he stammered. No one was buying it. He sighed in resignation. “Well, I guess… how nice Harry’s dad is to him, is all…” he muttered quietly.

They looked at him in mild shock. They’d known his home life maybe wasn’t the best as it was, but nonetheless… 

“Gran doesn’t really do hugs.” Neville said, looking downcast at the floor. He felt ashamed that he was feeling this way about his Gran, who’d had to raise him alone.

Harry stepped forward and embraced Neville, who was taken completely by surprise. “Well, you can have all the hugs you want from me!” he declared.

Hermione joined in and pulled Ron into a group hug. Neville’s voice caught in his throat, as they let him go, smiling at him.

Ron rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “This is a bit mushy for me-” Hermione threw him a dirty look, but he didn’t seem to notice “-but I think I’d be sad too if my mum didn’t hug me much, either.”

Neville rubbed his face and looked at them all. “Th-thanks, guys.” he said. After a moment they continued heading back to the dorm.

As they walked, Neville began to talk more about his grandmother. “My Gran’s not  _ that _ bad, she’s just strict and proper, and…”

~~~

Professor Dumbledore sat at his desk, his hands steepled on the table before him. He stared vacantly across the empty room, deep in thought.

The subject of his ruminations was one Quirinus Quirrell, soon-to-be Professor.

Dumbledore, in his desperate search for yet another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher that was prepared to befall an unknown calamity (with a ranging potential of severity), had spread his search far and wide. He had eventually found acceptance through a returned correspondence from an Albanian man, Quirrell. Albania was home to many dark wizards and magical beings, so there was also a small wealth of practitioners against these forces.

The one odd thing was that this acceptance came a short while after a polite refusal.

He was also late for his due arrival, claiming to have been afflicted with an illness a month ago that had not lifted as soon as he had predicted, but he was confident he would be well enough to begin teaching soon.

This rather interestingly correlated with Albus’ known information that Voldemort’s wraith had been sighted in Albania. That is to say, the evidence left of his continuing efforts in remaining alive (as far as it could be called that) after that fateful night in Godric’s Hollow, had gradually shifted to Albania and remained there the past couple of years.

Despite that evidence (frequently in the form of small, deceased animals with no evident cause of death to most, but a lingering malicious magic nonetheless the well trained could detect), Albus had been unsuccessful in his attempts to finally pin Voldemort down. It was akin to that Muggle saying, searching for needles among haystacks. He was now keenly aware of just how apt that analogy was. Besides everything else, he suspected Voldemort’s wraith skirted and inhabited particular areas so that direct evidence of his malfeasance was obscured by the dark magical practices of other creatures and wizards.

Albus had been careful to ensure Voldemort was not aware of his pursuit, for then it was certain that Voldemort would step up his efforts to evade him yet further, and make tracking him impossible. And that would be a dangerous scenario. Knowledge is the single most important weapon in a war.

Albus just hoped he could maintain the fact that the war had actually ended.

So it was to his surprise when Voldemort’s trail, scant though it was, had more or less ceased to exist entirely a short couple of months ago. This was shortly after Quirrell had refused his invitation, and word had it that Quirrell had gone missing in his hunt of a rogue werewolf, so it was said.

Albus had his suspicions.

The Headmaster stood up from his seat, slowly crossing the room to look out the window at the slowly failing sun.

He had had to be careful; he didn’t want to tip Voldemort off to the fact he was aware of his activities, for fear of losing track of him and therefore, this opportunity. He didn’t think he’d get another one either way.

Methods to cheat death the way Voldemort had were few and far between. Very few indeed. Even fewer that went beyond the death of one’s body. Albus had thoroughly investigated the topic quite thoroughly and only one method seemed to be plausible.

The horcrux.

He scarcely wanted to remember the details of their creation, but it aligned with Voldemort’s morals, or more precisely his lack of them.

He reasoned the best course of action was to try to find the horcruxes. After Voldemort was captured and incapacitated, at least; it was vital he didn’t know that  _ he _ knew, just in case.

Either way, he reasoned that Voldemort would not be satisfied with merely horcruxes to prevent his early demise. Voldemort frequently espoused his dominance over death, and would seek this eventuality at all costs. A horcrux would prevent being killed prematurely, but he was still susceptible to other bodily ills, such as ageing or starvation. As it was Voldemort seemed to be forced to make the effort to take over the bodies of animals in order to remain as corporeal as possible; it had been months before Dumbledore had found the first sign of this occurrence. It was possible that Dumbledore had missed the earlier signs, but he suspected that the very weak spirit that just barely clung to life that Voldemort had been, had taken months of recuperation to even overcome the mind of a basic insect.

Ageing, in particular, was known to be preventable; Nicholas Flamel could attest to that. During the war Flamel had been subject to a couple of attempted raids, that had thankfully proved unsuccessful, for Flamel had kept the precious Philosopher’s Stone safely hidden elsewhere. It’s value to Voldemort was obvious, the elixir of life would be a valuable tool to keep Voldemort alive and in good health as long as he wished, and furthermore could also likely be used to return Voldemort to his former power from the wretched state he currently found himself in.

That fact was compounded by the recent attempted break in. No doubt it was Quirinus, under Voldemort’s instruction, who made the attempt; few other wizards had the knowledge to escape from such an attempt alive and unscathed.

It was good that Albus had kept track of Quirinus; he had noted Quirinus moving toward England (despite his apparent illness), and had preemptively moved the stone to Hogwarts not only as a precaution, but as a trap. If he had not done so, the consequences could have been dire.

Setting such a trap at Hogwarts was far from ideal, but it’s also what gave the trap potential to be successful. Hogwarts is regarded as one of the most secure wizarding locations in the world, so it was a natural place to hide or protect something, and therefore not suspicious. His own presence was another supportive aspect of this, as well as trusted and capable colleagues. Of additional benefit was, as well as Voldemort now knowing the Stone no longer remained at Gringott’s, Albus could imply the location readily without being transparent, as warning the students would always be a necessity, regardless of what security measures were in place.

Albus was confident his final trap down in the third floor corridor would be successful. It helped as well that Voldemort remained weakened, presumably supported by Quirinus.

The problem is, of course, waiting for the trap to be sprung. In the meantime, Albus had to deal with Voldemort wandering around Hogwarts. Far from an ideal scenario.

It was unlikely Voldemort would cause  _ too _ many problems; he had little to gain by attacking anyone directly without obviously blowing his cover, and the lure of the Stone would be very, very great; much as this was likely Albus’ only good chance to ensure Voldemort was firmly defeated before he had a chance to come back to power, this held true for Voldemort’s attempt to obtain the Philosopher’s Stone.

But nonetheless, vigilance was vital. Especially where Harry was concerned; Voldemort was extremely prideful, and would be sure to desire vengeance if the opportunity presented itself. Especially if he still thought Albus had no reason to suspect Quirinus as a potential culprit.

A knock at the door roused Albus from his introspective, and he said “Come in, Severus.”

The potions master stepped into the room. He observed the Headmaster, still watching the reddened clouds.

“You wished to see me?” he asked.

Albus now turned to face him “Indeed, Severus. How is the potion progressing?”

“As well as can be expected. Assuming no set backs, it should be ready sometime after the new year.” Severus said.

Albus’ face fell slightly. Severus was about to respond to that with consternation, but Albus first said “I am  _ aware _ that nothing can be done to make the process faster. I simply do not enjoy the prospect of Voldemort being active any longer than necessary, and if he tries for the Stone before then, I am not as confident in our other options of restraining him.”

Severus closed his mouth.

Albus looked at him with some concern, now “And how about you, Severus? Do you think you’re prepared to deal with him, should he approach you?”

Severus casually looked Albus in the eyes, who gazed back into them intently. Albus saw in his mind’s eye an image of Severus and Petunia enjoying a quiet cup of tea together. He chuckled lightly as he withdrew.

“Quite excellent, Severus. I do enjoy it when you have a sense of humour.” Albus said.

Severus smiled wryly. “Is that all, Headmaster?”

Albus looked beyond him at the door briefly, then back to him. “I would appreciate a casual conversation, just for a while. Tea?” Albus offered, gesturing to his more casual, low slung seats by a coffee table off through a side door of the office.

Severus inclined his head, following him to the seats.

They sat down together, Albus summoning some tea from the kitchens. An indignant house elf followed shortly after, hands on hips, before poofing away again.

“So indignant.” Severus remarked.

“Anyway,” Albus said as he poured the tea out, adding two sugars for himself and some lemon for Severus, “how were the new students today?”

Severus had expected that, really. “Dunderheads, as usual, but we’ll have to see how they get on. My first class was the Gryffindors and Slytherins, I’d say it went well as an introduction. In particular…”


	7. Chapter 7

A week had passed at Hogwarts since. Harry had been enjoying his classes, but perhaps more importantly having good friends. It was still a little odd not being in his own bedroom, but the novelty of socialising made up for it. He did realise he was lucky to still see and visit his dad during school time unlike most students, though many of them seemed happy to have some breathing room away from the watchful eyes of parents. Neville was increasingly cheerful; it seemed his life had been similarly as friendless as Harry’s own, but Harry had good relationships with his dad, the animals and some of the teachers, whereas Neville’s adult relationships didn’t seem terribly great.

He and Hermione were revelling in the novelty of casting their own spells, and Hermione in magic at all, being an ignorant Muggleborn until just recently. Neville and Ron didn’t quite match up to them at the moment, but that was fine. Ron, though he tried, didn’t quite have the same work ethic as the others. Neville just seemed resigned to mediocrity though; it was still a bit of a task to encourage him to try a bit harder.

Ron huffed his way out of Transfiguration, leading the group to the great hall for lunch. Harry figured part of the mood today was that Neville had somewhat outperformed him as well as most everyone else, though for Neville this was probably down to the day’s practical session, which had consisted of trying to turn a garden trowel into a garden fork. Neville’s familiarity with such objects seemed to help him achieve a more successful transfiguration than Ron, who ended up with a warped and duplicated handle instead.

They all sat down and began eating in relative quiet. Ron’s mood gradually improved as he ate; Ron always did enjoy good food. Harry was glad they had lunch now.

Thankfully Ron himself broached the subject that the others were a bit unwilling to, for fear of upsetting him. “Why do you two always do so well, and me and Neville seem to have trouble sometimes? What gives?” Ron said.

“Well, I’ve never been much good at magic,” Neville said, “but I don’t know about you.”

Hermione shot him a withering look before Harry could. No one really liked hearing Neville prostrate himself. “I never knew magic until now. I  _ did _ study very hard though. Maybe you just need to do more reading?” she suggested. It was clear by now that Ron was not the studious sort, frequently needing coercion to join in on homework. Harry rolled his eyes internally; he realised by now that Hermione’s answer to most of life’s problems was in a book somewhere.

He pondered the matter silently as the others deliberated. What was the issue? He had noticed they sometimes had weird mishaps, but not seemingly because they were bad at magic, or unintelligent; they just seemed to get weird results sometimes when trying to cast any spells…

“Hey, guys?” Harry spoke up, drawing their attention to him. “Remind me where you got your wands again?”

The three looked at each other a moment. Hermione started with “Ollivander’s shop.”

“Mine’s my brother’s old wand” Ron said.

“And this is my dad’s” Neville said, showing his.

Harry eyed it. “Well, my dad made mine. He thinks that doing it that way means the wand is more suited for you-”

“-and Ollivander tested me with all sorts of different wands!” Hermione said, in triumphant realisation “‘The wand chooses the wizard’ he told me. It all makes sense!”

Ron slumped in his seat. “My family hadn’t money for a new wand, so if that’s why my spells are a bit iffy sometimes, it doesn’t help me.”

Neville remained quiet, just looking at his wand.

“At least you know it’s not your fault…” Hermione said, trying to cheer them up. “I mean they still work fine, don’t they?”

They seemed to accept that; their spellcasting had been largely acceptable for the most part.

At least the mystery seemed solved, Harry thought. But the problem at hand still not  _ re _ solved.

~~~

The mood had improved considerably by the time they went to the hall for dinner. Ron had contributed well to the Charms homework, and he surprised himself at enjoying aspects of it. Inwardly, of course. He didn’t fancy the prospect of Fred and George catching on. For now, he’d continue to join in the work apparently reluctantly.

Maybe he’d ask Percy how he dealt with them. Now  _ that _ was a weird concept; approaching Percy on purpose rather than being badgered without so much as asking.

They sat together at the table, eagerly awaiting their food. But before their dinner could appear, Dumbledore stood up and moved to the podium; it seemed there would be some evening announcements. Everyone went expectantly quiet.

It was at that moment that Harry noticed a new spot at the teachers table, next to Professor Snape. The man sat there was rather pale skinned, in robes of violet, including some sort of strange headgear that looked like a scarf trying to be a hat. It was immediately obvious what the announcement would be.

“Students, and teachers of course, I would like to announce that our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor has finally arrived. Please give a warm welcome to Professor Quirinus Quirrell!” Dumbledore said, motioning to Quirrell as he stood in his spot.

Rather quietly at first, Professor Quirrell spoke “G-g-greetings to all of you. I d-d-d-do apologise for the s-stutter, Albania was rather frightful. I look forward to educating you all in t-t-the Dark Arts. T-thank you.” he finished with a modest bow, and retook his seat.

A smattering of stilted applause sounded as he finished his short speech. It wasn’t long before the Headmaster lifted his arms to show dinner was starting, as the food began appearing before them. The hall quickly grew loud with hushed discussion of the new arrival.

Harry thought it a bit odd that someone teaching them how to protect themselves from dark, scary things appeared to be so afraid of them.

“Apparently Albania is full of dark wizards and creatures. I don’t blame him for being scared of it and teaching instead.” said Neville.

Hermione dolloped a helping of mash on her plate before returning the spoon. “But  _ surely _ he’d be accustomed to it if he lived there?” she asked.

“Sometimes people have just had enough” said Ron, as he heaped his plate with dumplings, “dad sees it sometimes at the ministry. People can work a job for years, and then just quit forever and avoid it afterwards. Someone called Kempson worked in the mail department for years, was good at it too… now he can’t  _ stand _ even the sight of owls, apparently.”

Weird, Harry thought, as he cut his mutton. Their auror covering briefly had done a good enough job, but he seemed distracted in what was obviously a temporary placement. He looked up at Professor Quirrell; he had a light smattering of food on his own plate, and seemed to have sunk fairly deep into a conversation with Professor Snape; not surprising, as he’d always had an interest in the Dark Arts himself, yet after a couple of attempts at the post had seemingly given up. Maybe seeing the other teachers consistently being forced out due to the apparent curse had put him off.

They’d always try to enlist the aid of each teacher in finding the source of the curse and breaking it; it was part of the attraction of the job, the potential notoriety of being  _ the _ DADA teacher to defeat the fabled curse. Obviously none had achieved that thus far. Professor Quirrell didn’t seem like he’d be up to it on the face of it, but first impressions aren’t everything.

Either way, he must be alright if Professor Snape was conversing readily with him. He wouldn’t entertain fools, idiots or halfwits. In his own words.

Harry winced slightly, noticing that his head stung a little bit at the front. He wasn’t sure he’d noticed that happen before. It seemed to be his scar; he’d have to ask his dad about it a bit later.

For now, there seemed little point worrying about it, so he continued eating his dinner.

~~~

After dinner, the gang took to the common room. It was quite noisy this evening; there was much discussion being had over Quirrell.

They were all sat together at a table, Hermione reading and Ron and Neville playing a game of hangman. Harry rather liked the noisy hustle and bustle of the room; it was a contrast to how quiet home usually was. It was a weird thought that he wasn’t staying there, but comforting that he could see it just out the window, it not being very far.

A dark skinned student walked past behind them, Dean Thomas. They overheard him talking to Seamus Finnegan; they were Harry, Ron and Neville’s two nearest bunkmates, one room over from the smaller one they’d snagged for the three of them.

“I heard he was a vampire, going through blood withdrawal, that’s why he’s so pale and stuttery.” he said to Seamus.

Hermione scoffed.

They both stopped and looked over. “Is something funny, Granger?” said Seamus.

“I’ll grant you that Professor Quirrell is a bit odd, but a  _ vampire? Really? _ ” she said.

Dean looked a bit thoughtful “Well, maybe Dumbledore’s really desperate like. He said he came from Albania!”

“Yeah!” Seamus added, “That’s like… really far away!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. They looked to the boys for support - they shrugged noncomittally.

“Next you’ll be telling us he’s a werewolf!” Neville said.

Dean stared at him in shock “Maybe  _ that’s  _ what’s-”

“Oh  _ please _ , as if Dumbledore would ever hire a  _ werewolf _ !” Ron said.

Dean and Seamus looked at each other, shook their heads and walked away, tutting about ‘wishful thinking’.

Ron suddenly looked rather concerned. He looked to Harry “... _ has  _ he ever hired a werewolf?” he asked.

“Naah,” Harry said, “he usually finds a retiree auror of some sort to take the class. There’s usually at least one about for each year. That  _ does _ make Professor Quirrell a bit unusual though, compared to them.”

“You’re not helping, Harry.” Ron moaned morosely.

“Come on, Ron!” Neville chimed in. “He’s just a bit of a weird Professor. What’s the worst that could happen?”

~~~

The four friends left the classroom of their first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson with Professor Quirrell, and headed for the great hall for lunch. Ron yawned.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too.” said Neville. The boys laughed.

“That is  _ hardly _ an appropriate way to talk about our new Professor!” Hermione scolded. The boys all looked at her. “...even if you’re right.” she lamented. They all giggled.

“I think the auror was better. Just as tame, but at least he didn’t keep stuttering so much” said Neville.

“I must agree, it did become rather  _ vexing _ .” said Hermione.

“Ha!” laughed Ron, “You know she’s really annoyed when she starts using all fancy words!” He lifted his voice an octave “Why, that Professor Quirrell is a  _ nincompoop _ !”

Hermione looked affronted as the others laughed at Ron’s impression. Neville prodded her arm. “It’s only a joke, Hermione.” he muttered. She sighed and calmed down. Then looked Ron dead in the eyes.

With a heightened pitch herself, she said “And you, sir, are a totally cretinous, uh, cretin.”

They fell about laughing together. Ron tried to maintain a facade of vexation himself, before he gave in too.

It was at that moment that Professor Snape rounded the corner of the hallway ahead of them, heading in the opposite direction. They instantly went quiet and continued walking. He slowed down, eyeing them as he went past, before heading off again. He slowly muttered to himself “cretins” as he walked away.

The four held their breath some long moments as he left, before bursting out laughing.

Beneath the laughter, Harry was increasingly concerned about his scar. It had stung again that lesson at times, just like at lunch, if not a tad more noticeable. Still, he didn’t want to bother anyone about it, it only being a minor annoyance. He didn’t run to his dad anymore every single time he stubbed his toe, for instance. Thinking about that…

“So, who wants to come see the forest on Saturday with me?”


	8. Chapter 8

Having done a good deal of their homework the night before, the group enjoyed the bright sunshine of late morning as they tramped their away across the still damp grass to the Hagrids’ expanded hut.

Fang, sat in the entrance lazily, got up and strolled over to greet them, followed shortly after by Hagrid.

“Hullo! What brings you all ‘ere then?” he asked loudly as he closed the distance.

Harry looked round his friends “Well, I thought I’d show my friends the forest a bit today!” he declared.

“The, uh,  _ forbidd’n _ forest, righ’?” Hagrid asked, arms crossed, looking down at them.

Harry just smiled at him more.

“Yer assumed I ’ad nothin’ better ter do right now, did yeh?” he asked, tone deepening slightly.

The others looked slightly apprehensive at Hagrid’s growing frown. Harry just looked bashfully at his feet.

“Well, yeh’d be right!” Hagrid declared cheerfully, clapping his hands together. Everyone looked slightly puzzled at the turnaround of demeanour except Harry, who knew his dad well; he never  _ really _ got angry, especially about such minor things, even had it been an issue.

“I reckon we should nip inside for a cuppa tea firs’ though.” Hagrid decided, before turning back into the hut, trailed after by the students.

He poured himself, Hermione and Neville some nettle tea, Harry and Ron declining in favour of hot chocolate. They relaxed briefly before setting off, chatting idly.

“Oh, I brought Scabbers this time, thought he might like to get out the castle for a bit. Harry said you liked animals, so…” Ron trailed off.

“And suggested he might like the change of scenery in the first place.” Chimed in Hermione.

Indeed, as Ron withdrew Scabbers from his pocket, he seemed rather more alert than usual. His eyes were wide as he snuffled round the table leisurely.

Hagrid leaned down for a closer look, curious. “Lived a long time, ‘inn’e? Probably sick ter death o’ the castle walls by now.” he said, remembering how this rat had been passed down the Weasleys for some time. “Seems in good health though, if rather scruffy. Rather lazy groomer, ain’t’cha?” he said, as he stroked the rat gently with a large finger. Scabbers looked briefly uncertain before accepting the attention.

“‘Ow old is he exactly, do ya know?” Hagrid asked, offering Scabbers some oats to nibble on.

Ron looked deep in thought for a moment. “Well… pretty old. Mum got him for Percy, uh… “ he counted on his fingers. “Five years ago, I remember. And the pet shop lady said he’d been there for at least that long already! All but gave him to us for free ‘cos no one would take him. That and he didn’t seem to get on with the others rats for some reason.” Ron finished.

“How fascinatin’” Hagrid said, looking down at Scabbers who absentmindedly ate the proffered oats. “Never ‘eard of such a long lived rat, even magical. I wonder…” he looked lost in thought a moment.

Then Hagrid stood up, and went over to the cool cupboards, withdrawing some meat slabs of uncertain origin. “Thought I might check on the thestrals anyway, if’n yer don’ mind?” Hagrid said, gently closing the cupboard door.

Everyone except Harry looked totally bewildered. Harry laughed at their expressions, which turned to affronted ones.

“Oh, come on. They’re some of my favourite animals. Hey, you can meet Tenny! I’m sure I could convince him to give you guys a ride!” Harry excitedly suggested.

Despite not knowing the identity of the animal in question, that was an exciting enough prospect to get everyone ready fairly quickly, Scabbers returning to Ron’s frontmost pocket, where he would peer out over the edge.

Hagrid turned to face them. “Now, ‘member: you are  _ never _ to go into the forest without me. Just because I’m taking you in  _ now _ don’t mean it’s safe alone. Alrigh’?”

“Yes, Mr. Hagrid.” was chorused back to him with mild sarcasm. Hagrid raiswd an eyebrow and they set about giggling. He shook his head and turned back to the front door.

“Make sure you stick wi’ me. Now, yer ready then?”

~~~

The five of them trotted together through the forest, along paths well used by both Hagrid and some of the forest creatures. Harry’s friends all marvelled at the sounds and sights of the place, especially the huge scope of it. They twittered amongst themselves as Hagrid lead the way, relaxed but keeping a watchful eye all around, all the same. He appreciated they seemed to have the sense not to be overtly noisy without needing to be told to be quiet. He occasionally stopped to point out signs and track; of special interest was some snagged unicorn tail hair, which Hagrid showed everyone before stowing it in a small jar on his person.

Observing the wildlife, Hagrid once again mused on how there was much of it to be seen deeper within as well as near the outskirts; he had underestimated the impact Aragog’s growing brood had had on the local animals. He mentally kicked himself (for what must have been the umpteenth time) for not seeing the issue himself beforehand. One of many lessons he had learned the hard way since Harry entered his life. Not that he’d change anything; to the contrary, aside from the joy Harry had given him, he himself had grown as a person from the experience. Still, the removal of his friend Aragog had been hard on him…

~~~

_ 9 years ago… _

Hagrid looked grim. Stood staring into the dark forest, dimly aware of the wizards from the Ministry’s Management and Control of Magical Creatures department finishing off their preparations. This was to be the culmination in a change of some of his long standing world views.

Several months ago he had finally taken Harry into the forest to meet Aragog, his oldest friend. He had initially been excited. But that had soon changed when he arrived…

“Mornin’, Aragog!” he had loudly proclaimed, waving an arm whilst the other ensconced Harry.

The colossal acromantula had eased it’s way down from the roof of it’s cave, formed of webbing, bark and bracken. Sensing a change, it had crept forward to meet it’s parent. It’s own offspring twitched in the shadows, dimly visible.

It stood stock still before him, sensing the air. “I smell something new and fresh, Hagrid. What have you brought to me?” he said.

Hagrid shifted his arm to expose little Harry a bit more in front of him. He gazed about in wonder. “Well, this here is my new son, Harry!” He stated proudly.

Aragog crept closer, peering down at the child. Hagrid suddenly felt very uneasy. Which was odd; he had never,  _ ever  _ felt that way with Aragog before, or even any of the other acromantula. But Hagrid was very intimate and familiar with them, and the subtle body language that he could read from Aragog was not the idle one from when Hagrid would show him mundane objects, for instance; no, this was the way they observed…  _ food _ , when he presented it to them.

Aragog hesitated, confused. He rumbled “This is a thing of flesh for us, not your offspring. It does not bear your scent besides a superficial manner.” He continued eyeing Harry.

“Well, ‘e’s adopted, in’e Aragog? He’s not mine, but I look af’er ‘im all the same.” Hagrid explained. His grip on Harry tightened.

Aragog shifted in bewilderment, but nonetheless came closer. “I don’t understand. It is not yours, not your kin; and since it is not, why should it not be our food, as you often bring to us...” Hagrid stiffened as Aragog closed the gap further, some of his brood beginning to peer out from their hiding places.

Hagrid had frozen stiff in fright. Not for himself, he still didn’t think Aragog would ever try to attack him, but for Harry. Why could Aragog not understand? Hagrid’s mind spun in fear and confusion. Within moments his oldest friend had changed to, well…  _ an animal _ . One that sees humans as just another kind of prey. Obviously Aragog didn’t see Hagrid himself that way, but he’d always assumed that would translate to other people, even without him there to explain the situation.

Aragog’s chelicerae parted in expectation. Hagrid hesitated briefly, but ultimately knew what he must do. There was barely even a decision to be made, regardless of the vow he’d taken. Using his free right arm, he slung his crossbow down into the crook of his arm and readied it, single handedly, faster than he ever had before in his life. He aimed it straight at Aragog “Now you  _ stop _ , right there, now!” he loudly demanded. Harry began whimpering as Hagrid clasped him securely.

The acromantula recoiled slightly, part fear, part confusion. “I do not understand…” Aragog said, continue to tutter the sentiment. The other smaller spiders retreated slightly, copying their elder.

Hagrid backed off quickly, watching carefully as Aragog just stared after him, mouthparts twitching and chittering. As soon as he was out of sight, he turned and ran.

As soon as he reached his hut, he locked up and put Harry delicately to bed, trying not to upset him. Tired from the excitement, this proved thankfully easy. Then he took to his table, tankard in hand, and spent the evening sobbing into it…

For a short while Hagrid had been totally unsure what to do, and spent a couple of weeks simply ignoring the matter (albeit ensuring the hut was in fact secure), sticking his head in the sand and not venturing far into the forest. He realised he had to act eventually, but shame at his own foolishness prevented him from doing so. Eventually, Harry showed his first little bit of magic by making a ball float to the ceiling, and Hagrid’s difficulty in dealing with it without his own magic (he was increasingly hesitant to rely on his own untrained spells with a semi-repaired wand around Harry) caused him to speak to Dumbledore about it. Ever perceptive, Dumbledore also needled him about what else had been the matter recently, and the acromantula situation came out.

Thankfully understanding, Dumbledore had taken both matters seriously and marvellously entwined them together to eventually solve both problems. Hagrid had still yet to really learn magic much again, but nonetheless here was the final hurdle of this whole mess, and likely the biggest one.

Shame wrestled with sorrow as he watched the Ministry wizards complete preparations; they had been pleasant enough, but it was hard to ignore the ones who were, despite attempts to hide the fact and remain professional, unimpressed at the whole scenario. And Hagrid could not fault them.

He was distracted from his musings by a tall (for a wizard, anyway) man coming over to him from the direction of the castle. He had red hair, a tightly curved moustache and short beard, a strong jaw and bright, wide eyes.

“Hello, there!” the man exclaimed jovially. “You must be this Mr. Hagrid I’ve been hearing so much about!” He offered his hand to shake, and shook Hagrid’s given hand with vigour.

Slightly taken aback suddenly out of his pensive mood, Hagrid did have to ask “Uhm, hello, but I don’ believe Oi’ve ever ‘ad the pleasure, mister…?”

“Ah! My apologies! Newton Scamander, at your service!” he waved his hand and bowed with a flourish.

“Oi- er- mister- I mean, sir, I…” Hagrid stammered in perplexity. His hero, an idol, suddenly appearing before him, at this time-

“Haha!” Scamander guffawed, “Old Albus said you might have that reaction!” he came closer and grabbed Hagrid by the arm. “You needn’t worry, I’m just another wizard, if it’s all the same to you.” he said, suddenly speaking with surprising softness.

Hagrid tried to compose himself. “Alright. Uh, sorry, mister Scamander. Jus’ you wrote my fav’rite book, is all.”

“I’m very glad to hear it. And please, do call me Newt.” Scamander said. He looked at the forest. “I understand we have a bit of an  _ acromantula _ problem here?”

Hagrid blushed. “Oh, yeh, well, we’re sortin’ it out soon, by the looks of it.” It was properly embarrassing to be made aware of your personal failings by someone who you so admire.

“That is primarily why I’m here; some of my ministry friends in the department let me know what was going on, if I wanted to be involved, and also asked if I could lend any additional assistance.” Newt mused. Hagrid murmured acknowledgement as they both looked at the forest.

“Additionally,” he continued, “I happen to be working on a much  _ enlarged _ edition of my book, with more thorough detailing, now that my draft copy appears to be quite popular. I was hoping to pick your brain about it later, if you wouldn’t mind?”

That brought Hagrid out of his reverie. “Me, sir? Whatever for?” he blustered.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Newt declared.

Hagrid shook his head.

Newt chuckled. “Never heard of anyone talking much to acromantula before, seldom having  _ raised _ one and had an ongoing relationship with it. I-”

“Him.” Hagrid interrupted.

“Hm?” questioned Newt.

“Aragog… Aragog’s a male.” said Hagrid, looking rather disheartened again at the reminder of why they were here.

Newt looked at him with sympathy and understanding. “I  _ am _ sorry, my good man. This must be hard for you.”

Hagrid sniffled, and smiled weakly at him. “It means alot that you even care, y’know?”

“Ah, well, I believe I had a similar experience, if I am not being presumptuous? It is easy to forget that despite being able to speak to us, many magical creatures are still driven by instinct underneath. It is an ugly thing to learn the hard way.” Newt said.

Hagrid looked at him, mildly shocked. “Wow, yer… yer really understand, don’t yeh?” Newt nodded. “Ah’m not sure I really realised meself, but when you put it that way…”

Just then a ministry wizard shouted at them. Heyi! We’re ready now, whenever you are!”

Hagrid steeled himself for what needed to be done. Newt had helped immensely; just talking to someone who seemed to understand why this was hard on him had lifted his spirits considerably. Most people, even many of the ministry department wizards, would not understand why someone could feel sad in any way about the great, ugly brutes of spiders that acromantulas were.

He cast a glance around to quickly take stock of the situation; many strong cages had been gathered, which had been placed on wooden boards enchanted to levitate. Some time ago these with groups of other wizards had been taken around to points in the forest so that they could hopefully corrall the spiders toward each other should they evade them.

With a brief sigh, Hagrid joined the nearby group, followed by Newt, and lead them into the forest.

Day was starting to become evening as they laboured in their work. But thankfully, they seemed to be finishing their rounding up of the stray acromantula, as the teams began to converge on the primary nest; Aragog’s nest.

Hagrid had not seen him since the encounter with Harry. He wondered what, if anything, he should say. He didn’t want to just leave the others to capture him by themselves, either.

The ministry wizards stealthily took up positions surrounding the nest, in order to capture any smaller acromantula that would also be hiding here. A small team and Newt followed Hagrid to the main opening. Some of the wizards balked at the size of the opening, the span of the webs, and the dried husk of a deer; evidently a recent meal.

With a prod from Newt, Hagrid stepped forward and called out “Aragog.”

Nothing happened.

The wizards looked at Hagrid questioningly, but he didn’t even notice now “Come on, Aragog, I know yer there. Or do I have to make you?”

Irritable clacking accompanied the huge spider as it crept out slightly, just the head end leaving the shade of the nest entrance. “...why?” he rumbled.

“They’re gonna take you someplace else, where yeh’ll be fed.” Hagrid succinctly told him.

Aragog’s mandibles parted wide. “Why can’t they just feed me themselves?” He crept forward more, the prospect of easy food seeming to override previous caution.

Suddenly he lunged, aiming for the wizards behind Hagrid. Instinct driving him, Hagrid leapt before Aragog and grabbed him head on, halting his attack. He wrestled and strove to keep the spider in place for what felt like a very long time, before the stunners from the surrounding wizards took sufficient effect, and Aragog dropped to the ground. Newt called for a halt sternly, as Hagrid rested his hands on his knees, breathing deeply with the effort. He looked at the unconscious Aragog as Newt came up and clapped him on the back.

“Very well done there, old chap! Most impressive…” Newt peered round at Hagrid’s face. “You uh… alright there?” he asked; Hagrid’s face was twisted with a number of emotions. Anger, betrayal, and deep sorrow.

“Mm… yeh, yeh Ah’m alright.” Hagrid said, straightening up. “Thank yeh” he said quietly, clasping Newt’s shoulder as he walked past and away. The ministry wizards began moving in to secure Aragog behind him…

For the sake of Hagrid’s emotional state, Professor McGonagall had kindly agreed to continue watching Harry for the night. After the acromantula clear up was finished, Newt made good on his intention to go over Hagrid’s knowledge of them. Hagrid was pleased for the company, getting out some ale for them both as they sat before the fire in comfy leather seats. Hagrid drank deeply of his pitcher to ease his nerves.

After reminiscing at length about Aragog’s life story, Hagrid felt more relaxed. The drink had probably helped a bit, but also it felt like a weight had been lifted; all the tension since this whole saga began felt like it was ebbing away. Talking about all of the good and bad openly for more or less the first time. There weren’t many listeners who were earnestly interested in most of it.

Talk moved to other topics… or at least, other creatures. Thestrals, Fawkes, the centaurs, Fang, unicorns, and so on. Newt was greatly intrigued by Hagrid’s closeness to many of these rare and particularly shy creatures through his lifestyle, associating closely with Hogwarts and living here on the edge of one of Britain’s largest magical forests. Hagrid was only too pleased to feel so appreciated, especially by someone he held in such high regard.

Eventually, in the early hours of the morning, Newt said that he must take his leave. However, he told Hagrid he was far from finished with him, and said that he’d like stay in contact. Hagrid gave him a firm handshake goodbye, and waved him away through the fireplace…

~~~

He would have to send Newt an update, Hagrid thought, absentmindedly trotting along. He listened to the chatter trailing along behind him; inbetween pauses to poke interesting mushrooms and such like.

“...always lived here?” he heard the young Weasley ask.

Evidently Harry nodded affirmation as no audible answer was given.

“So what did you  _ do _ ? I remember you said that we were your first friends. You have no brothers or sisters to play with. Or avoid.” Ron said.

This seemed to be mulled over briefly. “Well, dad’s always been great, as well as some of the teachers; Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall. And well, maybe you’re not  _ exactly _ my first friends. Fang and Tenny, uh, Tenebrus, are my friends too. You’re just my first, um, human friends!” Harry elucidated.

Hagrid shook his head sadly at that. He likened it too much to his own youth. Which made him all the more glad that he now had this small entourage with him.

The children all just giggled at Harry’s exclamation, though Neville more quietly. He had been quite distracted by the wealth of flora for most of the walk.

It was a good thing Harry played and interacted well with the animals, Hagrid thought; it stopped Fang from being too lazy, for a start. Beyond that, they’d really helped Harry grow, as a part of his life; they did not judge or treat him differently for being a child, unlike the adults Harry otherwise would interact with. He figured this was good for Harry, at least in the absence of similarly aged peers.

They were nearing one of several of the thestrals’ usual haunts, using his wand to point them in the right direction, save checking all over the forest. Hagrid continued to keep a watchful eye all around, checking for any signs that something was amiss. He usually did so in his jaunts in the forest. Imminent danger was unlikely but, especially having learned since the acromantula removal, maintaining awareness of disturbances was best managed by being aware of what’s ordinary first. Also, the thestrals would definitely notice anything threatening long before he did, being highly sensitive animals.

Hagrid heard their calls quietly coming through the trees as they neared this clearing that they favoured. They were greeting calls, the thestrals clearly hearing them coming.

“Wh-what’s that noise?” Neville asked concernedly.

Pointing ahead to a gap in the foliage near the path, Hagrid said “The thestrals, just through ‘ere. Come on, then.” he said reassuringly as he pushed ahead, Harry close on his heel. Neville followed hesitantly. Ron and Hermione looked at each other, hanging slightly behind but also following. “Did  _ you _ hear anything, I didn’t…” said Ron.

Hagrid stood and took in the sight; all seemed well with the herd. Some looked at the arriving posse while others continued resting or nosing about the ground. They were no strangers to students.

He noticed Harry smiling up at him, grinning with an air of mischief. Hagrid chuckled back.

Neville came into the clearing first, and gasped at the sight. Harry quickly went over to him to make sure he was alright; he knew that their appearance, whilst not an issue to him, might be initially unsettling to others. Harry brought Neville over to stand with Hagrid to look at the thestrals, most of which had stopped what they were doing to watch them intently. Ron and Hermione came in behind them, looking about in bewilderment. Scabbers, unbeknownst to them, was staring out of Ron’s pocket with bulging eyes.

“What  _ are _ you looking at?” asked Hermione incredulously.

“They just hid.” Harry told her. Neville was about to say something when Hagrid gave him a gentle prod, and winked at him as he turned. Harry took some of the meat from his dad and gave a piece each to Ron and Hermione. “Go out there and hold the meat out, they’ll come out and take it from you.” Harry told them.

Befuddled, they both went out into the centre of the clearing and held their offerings before them, looking around for any movement. Scabbers ducked down into his pocket, trembling.

Harry snickered. Neville just seemed confused as to why Ron and Hermione were confused; couldn’t they see the skeletal horse looking things?

A thestral casually approached Hermione and plucked the meat from her hands. She shrieked as the meat floated away in the air and disappeared.

“Whatever is the matter, Hermio- AAGH!” Ron yelled as the flesh he was holding was pulled away from him, yanking him over slightly as his grip had been tight.

They both fled to Hagrid and the others. Hagrid and Harry chuckled at their expressions.

“That was  _ not _ funny.” Hermione told them sternly. Ron opened his mouth to agree, then shut it; Hermione shrieking  _ had _ been funny.

“Ah heh heh- sorry, jus’ could’n’ resist a bit of a joke with yeh. Now, the thestrals are here, but are  _ invisible _ to most people. But we-” Hagrid indicated himself, Harry and Neville “-can see ‘em. Not sure why you can though, Neville. The thing that makes ‘em visible seems ter be havin’ seen somebody dyin’, and understandin’ it. At least, tha’s what we think…” he was then lost in thought.

“Well, my uncle passed away a few years ago.” Neville said.

Hagrid glanced at him, wondering if he had accidentally made a bit of a faux pas. But Neville seemed alright, thankfully.

Still looking annoyed, Ron turned around “So did you really bring us all this way for  _ that? _ ” he complained.

“Calm yerself, Ron” Hagrid placated him firmly. “Nah, that’s not just it. Me an’ Per’fesser Dumbledore did some experimentin’ a few years ago. Tenebrus, come ‘ere!”

The thestral did so, approaching Hagrid eagerly. Hagrid raised his wand as all the children watched, and twitched it, saying “ _ Revelio thestralis _ ”. A grey sort of mist flew out of the wand, unveiling the thestral to Ron and Hermione as it whinnied. The others saw no change occur. They both gasped and took a step back.

“Don’ worry now, Tenny here is perfectly safe. Aint’cha?” Hagrid reached out and stroked his neck, offering more meat to him, which he was all too happy to take.

Ron began to relax, but Hermione still was uncertain. “Are you sure? They seem to be carnivores, you-”

“No need to worry, Hermione, the thestrals are purely  _ scavengers _ . They wouldn’t hurt a fly!” Harry declared, cutting her off. To prove a point, he ran up to Tenebrus and hoisted himself up top.

It seemed pretty clear now that he really  _ was _ harmless. With some trepidation, the kids all approached him. He stepped gently forward and lowered his head to greet and investigate. Ron was first to reach out and touch his muzzle, before the others joined in. Tenebrus crooned at the attention.

Hagrid smiled as he watched, pleased the kids were warming up fast; it was true that thestrals had what many considered an unsightly appearance, to say the least. They seemed almost  _ designed _ to be unsettling to those who saw them, and yet their naturally gentle nature was obvious to anyone who spent 30 seconds observing their behaviour. Wonderful, but odd, creatures they were.

The point was proven as the kids gasped in amazement as Harry ushered Tenebrus to take a running bound and lazily glide across the clearing. They eagerly chased after him, each wanting their own turn...

~~~

After a long, tiring day, Hagrid escorted the three students back to the castle gates; Harry had cited his own exhaustion and opted to spend the night at home. Hagrid wondered if he was really just a bit homesick, though. Perhaps both, even.

After visiting the thestrals, they all trekked their way back to his hut, and they had had snacks, played games, and tried a bit of magic practice. All in all, a busy day. These three were quiet now, seemingly ready for bed.

As they reached the gates, Hermione turned round quickly, suddenly remembering “Thanks for taking us to see the thestrals, Hagrid, we learned a lot!”

“And had fun, too.” Ron added. Hermione playfully jabbed him, and he smiled back. Neville just nodded his agreement to Hagrid.

“Well, ah’m glad. Now, you all get a good night’s sleep. Oh, and this is fer you, Ron. Midnight snack.” Hagrid winked as he gave Ron a rock cake.

“Good night, Hagrid!” they chanted together, as they went inside.

Ah yes, Hagrid was pleased to have got to know his son’s friends so well, and how they had relaxed around him now, just as it should be. He hummed happily as he trotted back to his hut for an evening drink.

~~~

All was quiet that night in the Gryffindor dorm room. The students all were sleeping soundly.

Ron’s pet rat Scabbers, however, sat on the chest at the foot of his master’s bed, motionless and wide eyed…

Peter was his true name, for he was an animagus. Peter Pettigrew.

It had been a long time since he’d thought of himself in those terms; having been the Weasleys’ pet rat for so long, his former life had all but been forgotten.

Until now.

The horror of an icy, ethereal finger of blame pointed at him. Of course, there was no such thing, except for purely within his imagination. But all the same, he felt it keenly.

Peter thought he had forgotten that feeling, put it long behind him; he was Scabbers now. What Peter had done, what terrible things Peter had done, were no concern of Scabbers’.

If only he could truly forget.

But the thestrals. The thestrals knew. Knew what he was, knew what he had done. They were heralds of Death, after all, Death’s steeds, companions and watchers of the mortal coil.

Their steely gaze had pierced him thoroughly. None of the foolish children or their equally oafish caretaker had noticed where their  _ precise _ attention had initially been. Quietly condemning him with their silent judgement. Yet it was all the worse for it.

He couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t get out of his mind that accusing look. “ _ We know, _ ”, it said, “ _ and it will be remembered… _ ”

But what could they know? He’d had no choice. The Dark Lord Voldemort had risen, conquering all who dared resist. The order of the phoenix was doing a better job than the ministry, and they were losing ground in the war. Voldemort’s victory had been certain; it was just a matter of time.

He had tried to warn his friends, oh he had. He’d had to be subtle, suggestions here and there. But they took no notice, continued to fight. He loved his friends, truly he did, but what good is love when you’re dead.

Then an opportunity arose.  _ He  _ became the Potters’ secret keeper. Not Sirius, as all else who knew the supposed identity of the secret keeper. It was the perfect scenario; all would believe Sirius the traitor, as he could turn the deception back in an inversion of its intended purpose. It gave him the ideal gift to offer to the Dark Lord, for the Potters had been something of a thorn in his side. Something to placate him so he might be spared his wrath.

It had worked. The Dark Lord saw through him clearly, knew that despite his utterances, Peter held no loyalty to the Dark Lord or his cause. But he had been merciful, oh he had been merciful. He saw the value in bestowing kindness upon those who submit before him. And submit he did, so utterly so that he took the mark of his Lord, in order to prove his fealty to him, that he may continue to be of some use.

Peter had made the best of a bad situation, disappointing though it was none of his friends could join him. If they even had been his friends. They might have acted like it, but really he had always been the different one, the butt of the jokes, the hanger on. He has just been useful to them, much like he was now useful to Voldemort. At least, that’s what he told himself to try to assuage that feeling of wrongness about the whole thing; he dare not acknowledge that feeling for what it really was -

_ Guilt. _

Damn it!

It was misplaced guilt. He’d had no choice,  _ he’d _ made the sensible decision, damn his friends for being fools, damn them for making him put them on the line in order to survive. Damn then for making him feel like this…

It had almost been the perfect plan, only for it to fall at the last hurdle. The Dark Lord had been unable to kill little Harry Potter, for whatever reason, and as far as everyone knew, was dead. He had often waxed lyrical to his followers about his inability to die, so earnestly that Peter had believed it. But if it had been true, there still had been no sign of him these last 10 years. If he ever did return, prove that he truly was immortal, it would simply be validation that Peter had made the right choice, and he would rush to the safety of his Lord’s side.

And if not, Peter had only the bed he had made to lie in. But being the family pet of a family like the Weasleys had not been a bad bed to lie in at all. For the most part...

But reminiscing was doing little to help forget the eyes of those terrible creatures boring into him.

Peter continued to stare blankly into the darkness of the night...


	9. Chapter 9

Harry slowly awoke in his warm, cosy bed. He always did enjoy a lie in.

He stayed in bed, enjoying the warmth. Yesterday had been wonderfully exciting. Showing his friends around where he lived had been nice. Especially showing off Tenebrus! He’d not had much opportunity to before now. He looked at his wand at his bedside thoughtfully.

Anyway, it was time to get up. He was hungry. He entered the main living space.

Unfortunately, no smells welcomed him today. Dad must be out somewhere this morning. Fang was missing too, so evidently he was in the forest somewhere. Harry would just have to make his own breakfast.

But first, we went to the ever-simmering cauldron of the ashwinder. He’d taken to checking on it frequently, talking to it to try to encourage a response. He thought he’d heard some sort of hissing a couple of times, but he could never be sure that it wasn’t his imagination, or just the fire itself.

He had begun to lose hope anything would happen. He wondered if it was just impatience, but all the same…

He stood on a stool to get a good look down in. All looked as usual. He told the egg “ _ Good morning. _ ” anyway.

And it responded in kind.

Harry froze, excitement coursing through him. He must not be foolish. All told it could still potentially be a dangerous situation. If not the snake, then the fire.

He  _ was _ sure he’d really heard it this time.

Peering back down over the edge, he said “ _ Hello? _ ”

“ _ Hello. _ ”

“ _...are you ready to hatch? _ ”

“ _...yes. I believe so. _ ” the egg responded.

The egg shifted as the snake inside turned around, positioning itself best to push it’s way out.

Harry watched excitedly as the baby ashwinder began to emerge. Like it’s mother, it was a perfect ash grey colour with those ember eyes, though they seemed brighter on this baby.

Immediately drying in the heat of the cauldron, the snake looked about at its surroundings. “ _ Where are you? _ ” it asked.

“ _ Up here! _ ” Harry told it.

It looked up, and attempted to slither up to him, before sliding back down. It tried again more urgently, before Harry motioned at it to wait. He jumped down off the stool and grabbed the hearth tidy trowel. He climbed onto the stool again, but hesitated.

“ _ What exactly are you trying to do? _ ” Harry asked boldly.

“ _ Simply to meet you, master. I have been waiting all this time, after all. You’re the one who has been speaking to me. _ ”

“ _ You heard all those times I spoke to you? _ ”

“ _ For a time yes. I do not know how long. _ ”

Harry thought a moment. His dad trusted him to take care of himself and stay safe.

“ _ You won’t bite me or run away- erm, flee? _ ” he asked decisively.

The ashwinder tilted its head at him. “ _ You’re the one who spoke to me first and asked me to hatch. Why do you worry so much? ...ah, your parent who has stoked the fire worries. _ ” The ashwinder hissed to itself in some sort of laughter. “ _ No, I do not intend harm to you. _ ”

And that was finally good enough for Harry as his tempered excitement started breaking out. He carefully aimed the trowel down into the cauldron so that the snake may climb onto it. It wrapped round the trowel as Harry raised it out to place the trowel on the hearth carefully. The ashwinder slithered away from it up to the edge of the hearth, where Harry knelt down to have a closer look.

In some ways, it was a perfect imitation of its mother, just on a much smaller scale, only about a foot long. It did seem a bit different though, though how exactly was hard to say. It looked more… solid, for lack of a better word. It didn’t seem to shed ash the same way the mother had done.

Harry tentatively reached out a hand slowly. The little ashwinder mirrored the action, tongue flicking rapidly as it leaned forward to inspect the hand. Harry giggled softly as the tongue tickled his finger tips.

“ _ It is nice to meet you, master. _ ” it said.

Harry smiled in a puzzled fashion. “ _ Why am I your master? _ ”

“ _ I do not know why, only that you  _ are”. It said. “ _ I have known you as long as I have lived, after all. _ ”

Knowing that gave Harry more confidence. He carefully reached out with both hands to scoop the snake up carefully. It coiled up in his cupped hands.

Harry looked at it thoughtfully. “ _ In that case, I guess you need a name. Do you have one already? _ ” the snake shook its head. “ _ Ok. So… are you male or female? _ ”

The ashwinder seemed to smile, amused. “ _ I suppose by your terms I am female. I do not believe that I ever could have been ‘male’. _ ”

Fascinating, Harry thought. It made some degree of sense; ashwinders would always lay eggs when born from a fire, so it perhaps stands to reason that the offspring are the same in that regard.

Harry laughed then. The ashwinder looked at him questioningly.

“ _If I may, how about the name… ‘Ashe’?_ _What do you think of that?_ ” he asked.

“ _ Why does that amuse you, exactly? _ ” she asked.

“ _ We call your kind ‘Ashwinder’. It’s a bit on the nose. _ ” Harry explained.

She thought about it a moment, and then said “ _ It sounds nice enough, all the same. I am Ashe, then. _ ”

“ _ And I’m Harry. It’s nice to meet you, Ashe! _ ” Harry said excitedly.

She nodded her commiseration with a serpentine smile. As far as she even could, anyway.

~~~

After that, Harry realised how hungry he’d become, so he prepared to make breakfast. Harry left the fire alone; Ashe didn’t seem to need it at the moment, but also he didn’t want to interfere, especially as some magic was involved in prolonging it.

The snake was draped around his neck as he worked the stove; he offered to make her something, but not only was she not hungry, but she showed little interest in the food he was making anyway. Bacon, eggs and fried bread; good and hearty after yesterday’s busyness.

Dad had been sure to teach him how to cook and fend for himself; the Hogwarts house elves would have been more than happy to prepare all his food for his entire life. But it is good to know how to be independent, how to do things yourself, he had said. To know humility and humbleness. Harry fairly enjoyed the cooking for all that, besides.

He had made sure to prepare plenty of it; dad usually enjoyed more food, even if he’d already had breakfast. But it was doubtful he had that early anyway.

Right on cue, the door opened as Hagrid wandered in, Fang leading the way, panting over to a cool wall to lay down with a huff.

Hagrid busied himself removing his overcoat and boots. “Mornin’ ‘Arry!” he said. He sniffed the air, glancing vaguely in Harry’s direction. “Smells good Harry, cheers for that. Ruddy centaurs…” he muttered to himself.

“Oh?” Harry asked.

“Jus’ ran into Firenze this morning, is all. In a mood to wax lyrical today. Some nonsense ‘bout Jupiter, I dunno. Maybe is not nonsense, but it don’t mean a whole lot ter me.” Having removed all his dirty outer clothing, he went and sat at the table. He peered at Harry, eyes flicking to the cauldron. “I take it the egg ‘atched, then?” he asked rather loudly.

Harry lowered his head sheepishly as he plated up a couple eggs and rashers for himself, and a dozen a piece for his father, along with the accompanying (now buttered) fried bread. He brought the plates to the table and stepped up to his dead. “This is Ashe!” he announced, indicating the limp snake. She raised her head as greeting and to actually see Hagrid for the first time; she recognised his scent the minute he stepped in the door, amongst the wet leaf litter and soil.

Hagrid leaned in for a good look; he gently raised a finger to lift her chin up, taking stock of her. She seemed good and healthy, though of course a hatched ashwinder was rather new to magizoology, so far as he knew. The barest hints of pupils, slightly paler in the centre of the bright red eyes, followed his as he looked over the rest of her. “Well, all seems right ter me. Helps that she can tell yer, o’ ‘course.” he said. He sat back in his chair to eat his breakfast that Harry had made him.

Harry took his own seat besides him with his own plate. Ashe slithered down his arm to the table to explore the surface. He told Hagrid about what had happened that morning, his conversation with Ashe, and so on. Then Harry suddenly remembered something, and asked in particular, what Ashe could have meant by him being her ‘master’ and all that entailed. His dad listened intently, eyebrows raising slightly as he listened to that.

He thought about it a moment, sitting back in his chair. He summoned yesterday’s cold tea over and warmed it with a charm, taking a sip. Harry waited.

“She sounds much more talkative and eloquent than yer usual snakes, don’t she?” he said. Harry nodded, having not really thought about it, but realising he was right. “I reckon you might ‘ave made a familiar with her…”

Hagrid went on to explain what a familiar was; any creature with some latent magic could become a familiar. This usually happened when they were hand reared by wizards or witches; the close contact results in an animal that seems more intelligent than is usually expected, and has a particular devotion to that one individual, being highly biddable, but usually only by them.

Ashe’s capacity for real conversation was especially fascinating to Hagrid. Wild snakes could be spoken to just fine but only ever responded with simplistic phrases or sentences; they never offered independent thought. Though they could be spoken with, this didn’t seem to mean they had human-like intelligence at all. The fact Ashe  _ did _ was pretty incredible. Such intelligence was often found in familiars, but unfortunately a language barrier usually existed.

Of course, no one knew why familiars also showed such exceptional loyalty to their chosen masters. Nor did Ashe, perhaps unsurprisingly. Such was the nature of many of the more obscure magical bonds.

After breakfast, Harry decided he’d show Ashe outside the hut, and whatever could be found there. Hagrid sat on the porch and watched them go about together, Fang lazily and half-heartedly following. Taking out a quill and parchment, Hagrid began to pen a letter…

_ Dear Newt, _

_ Long time since I last saw yer! But I have something you may be interested in. We had an ashwinder a few weeks ago and it laid some eggs. Harry talked to it, apparently it needed a nest where the eggs could remain hot for a long time. So we kept one and kept it in a cauldron with a fire under it the whole time. Well, it hatched! And it seems to be Harry’s familiar, I reckon. So I thought you might like to see that, as well as a good catch up! Hope to see you soon, _

_ Hagrid _

_ PS: Harry’s friend has a really old rat, apparently it’s at least 10 years old! Maybe you know something about that? Could you have a look? Just seems interesting. _

Finished writing, Hagrid rolled the parchment up, and called for a house elf, whom he asked, if it would be ever so kind and take it to one of the school owls to deliver. The elf curtsied as she popped away to do so.

Sitting back and taking stock as he looked at Harry sat in the grass (who in turn was looking at Ashe wander about), Hagrid breathed out a sigh he didn’t realise he’d been holding. A lot seemed to have happened in such a short space of time. That was to be expected, he supposed, what with the first week at school only just finishing for Harry, and all the new things that came with that.

Getting up, Hagrid strode forward and sat down in the grass next to his son, putting an arm around him. He planted a kiss on his head as Harry just giggled, as they sat and looked at Ashe slithering through the tiny canopy the long blades of grass made.

A strong feeling of ambivalence suddenly overcame Hagrid. He loved Harry, his son, ever so dearly; he could not imagine what his life would be like without him. His life beforehand had been much lonelier, for a start. In some ways he hadn’t realised, he was surrounded by creatures for companionship, not to mention the professors of Hogwarts. None of that had really been the same as having a real family of his own, though. He’d never met any women who’d ever even consider him as a romantic partner (not that he’d ever really felt that way either) to think about starting his own the more traditional way.

Though certainly he was a different person now. Caring for Harry had been such a huge commitment, such a responsibility, that it had forced him to reevaluate certain aspects of his life, character and behaviour, and for the better. Much of his past behaviour was… a bit embarrassing, in hindsight. But at least he could see that now.

Yes, his life was much richer for having Harry in it. But at what cost had that been?

Poor Lily and James, some of his few, closest friends, struck down just as they were beginning life. Slaughtered by the monster, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It was a miracle that Harry had survived unscathed (almost), but Hagrid could not help but feel a bit guilty that his own life had been so much the better for the loss of Lily and James…

Dumbledore, of course, would tell him that it’s what they’d have wanted, what was best for Harry now. And, he supposed, Dumbledore was right, at the end of the day. It helped Hagrid in those tough moments when he felt guilty, or undeserving. It’s not like Hagrid  _ not _ taking in Harry would bring back his real parents, would it? Dear little Harry would have ended up with those muggles instead! To think, that Harry would only have known about any of the magical world around him a mere few weeks ago...

Hagrid tightened his arm around Harry just a little, basking in the sunshine. Ultimately, Harry seemed happy. And that was what really mattered.

~~~

Weeks passed. Things at Hogwarts continued as usual, everyone diligently working hard in their subjects. Even Ron, having been at first a bit reluctant to put work in, was encouraged by his peers and was becoming increasingly motivated. Harry wondered if this was in part due to his and Neville’s slight performance issues next to him and Hermione; he definitely needed to talk to dad about that, hopefully he could figure something out.

Despite his closeness with his friends, Harry remained a bit nervous about revealing his parseltongue to them, given the reputation it seemed to have. So Ashe for now stayed at home, Hagrid able to provide the little she may need (he had guessed right that fire salamanders would be a good thing to stock).

Harry’s scar occasionally caused him some discomfort still; Harry wondered if he ought to tell dad soon if it didn’t stop. It just flared up every now and then. Sometimes it was at meal times, DADA lessons, school corridors between classes, even at home once in the evening. It was probably nothing, but then, it had never been an issue before.

Animosity with Malfoy continued too. He was pretty annoying, hurling petty insults at them occasionally and so on. Neville lead the others by example of largely ignoring Malfoy whenever possible, which amusingly seemed to irritate him more than any of the retorts anyone came up with, so they had all stopped rising to his bait, for that’s what it was. Malfoy had gradually tried to escalate his offensiveness, clearly frustrated that he was not getting the results he wanted.

Ron had, however, continued to denigrate Slytherin house as a whole as a result, much to Harry’s chagrin, though he was at this point just used to it. It shouldn’t bother him so much, but it did for some reason nonetheless.

So it was that it was time for Potions class. Ron had, at least, accepted that there was nothing really wrong with Professor Snape. Or at least, nothing that other teachers weren’t also guilty of.

The class filed in as Professor Snape waved them to come in as he finished his writing. Then he stood up to explain the lesson.

“Today,” he said, “we shall be working on a buoyancy aid potion.” He surveyed the class, gauging the response.

“For the ill informed among you, that means you will not sink in water. Thankfully the weather has not made many of you inclined to try swimming in the lake just yet before I had the chance to introduce this potion to you.”

He picked up a chalk and wrote out the brewing instructions. They were slightly more complex than usual. He watched for a moment as the students tried to take in everything.

A rapped knuckle on his desk returned their attention to him. “The more astute among you will have noticed how difficult this potion is, in particular the need for constant stirring. A skilled potioneer like myself can accomplish this alone, but for now you will work in pairs. I have already taken the liberty of mixing your names together in order to draw your partners.” He said matter of factly, as this was not the first time he’d done this; when allowed to choose partners, students would always choose the same ones. He did not want  _ his _ students mentally stagnating in his class.

So he began drawing names out of the pint-sized cauldron on his desk, and assigning partners. Mr. Hagrid was paired with Mr. Smith, Mr. Goyle with Miss Parkinson, and so on.

Next he drew another two names, his eyebrows raising in only the barest hint that he was aware of anything significant: “Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Weasley.” he said.

Neither student looked happy about the situation, as they threw dirty looks at each other. Snape ignored them and continued until everyone was with a lab partner.

“You are to take it in turns to brew this potion, one of you must stir carefully whilst the other makes their potion. Then alternate.” Professor Snape said, and sat down at his desk and cast an eye over the class. “I trust I do not need to reiterate that any kind of foolishness will not be tolerated. You may begin.”

Neither Ron nor Malfoy wanted to say anything to the other, that they might even decide who was going to go first. All Snape needed to do was to glance at them to let them know they needed to get on with it.

“You first then,  _ Weasley _ .” Malfoy said snidely, snatching his potion stirrer up off the table.

Ron just grunted as he began to chop the dried mosquito larvae, a task easier said than done.

Whilst potion making was far from his favourite class, Ron wasn’t too awful at it; at the very least, he was fairly good at prepping ingredients as he was not quite so squeamish as many of the others.

It was quite surprising, then, that beyond that Malfoy diligently stirred the potion (a consistent cycle of 3 times clockwise, 3 times counter-clockwise, etc.) without being any trouble. Maybe despite his dislike of Ron, Snape’s warnings were still enough to discourage him from deliberate sabotage as Ron had expected. He was sure Malfoy would take the chance to stir incorrectly when he thought that Ron wasn’t looking.

Eventually the potion had finished brewing, and Malfoy slowly stopped stirring correctly as it cooled. Now that was over, Ron relaxed, as far as he could working with Malfoy. His potion was safe and finished, as Professor Snape went round the room, jaring up samples of each potion.

He took them to his desk to sit down, examine and mark them whilst the students swapped roles and began all over again.

Ron bit his tongue as Malfoy prompted him to “Get on with it”, and began stirring steadily. He barely paid attention to what Malfoy was actually doing; he did not want to be blamed for Malfoy’s potion going wrong because he lost count of the stirring.

At his desk, Professor Snape scrutinised each jar. Viscosity, colour, opacity, scent, all could be examined by the skilled potion master and inform of what had been done right or wrong during the brewing process. Poor stirring made this potion more opaque, whereas improper adding of ice made the smell stronger than it ought to be.

Eventually the next batch of potions were completed. Snape collected the samples whilst the students began reading their books and taking notes in the interim, Snape having somehow written the prerequisite reading on the board without being noticed.

As they did so, Snape periodically called up the pairs of students who had worked together to give them their marks and feedback, as he finished examining each of the second batch in turn. If he deemed them safe, he offered the resulting potion to the successful students (this was definitely a good motivation for effort in future classwork).

Next, it was the turn of Weasley and Malfoy, who he called up. First was Weasley’s potion, which he handed to him.

“I would grade this potion as a good Acceptable. It was stirred very well, Malfoy. Besides that, basic technique is all good, Weasley, just the finesse is mostly lacking in terms of timing and how finely chopped your ingredients were.” Professor Snape said. Ron nodded and mumbled thanks as he took the proffered potion. Snape still made him a bit uneasy, but he was pleased with his potion.

Then Snape turned to look at Malfoy. “Now, Malfoy, this potion,” he said in an even voice, “is potentially dangerous as it would actually cause the imbiber to have  _ negative _ buoyancy. Do you think you could explain why?” he asked. Snape, of course, knew why: it was because Malfoy had added some of the ingredients whilst the potion was being stirred in the wrong direction.

Malfoy looked surprised to hear that. “I have no idea sir, I did everything right. Everything!” he said firmly. Ron was also surprised, not knowing what to think; Malfoy usually got good results.

Snape merely lifted an eyebrow and continued looking askance at Malfoy. Then Malfoy suddenly turned round angrily.

“It was  _ you _ , wasn’t it, Weasley? You sabotaged my potion!” 

Ron did not expect this. “No I bloody didn’t, you-”

“ _ Language _ , please, Mr. Weasley.” Snape said sternly, quietening him. “ _ Did _ you sabotage the potion somehow, Weasley?”

“N-no, sir. I just stirred it, honest!” Ron declared.

“He’s lying.” interrupted Malfoy.

Snape maintained a cool demeanour before the two boys. It was better to reserve outbursts for rare moments; better to keep them anxious of you most of the time. “What do you think Weasley here did, Malfoy?” he asked.

Ron spluttered in consternation at the accusation, but Snape merely silenced him with an open palm, waiting for Malfoy’s answer.

“I’m sure he snuck extra stuff in while I wasn’t looking, sir.” Malfoy said. “And he-”

“No he didn’t!” a stern voice said from the work table next to theirs. “Malfoy just kept putting stuff in during the wrong stir direction… sir!” Daphne Greengrass finished sheepishly. She’d felt so confident at first, but the way her head of house would look at you…

Malfoy was silently fuming that a member of his own house had attempted to rat him out. Ron was shocked that a  _ Slytherin  _ had his corner. He had thought they all liked Malfoy.

“I appreciate your candour, Miss Greengrass, but I can handle these matters myself. A point from Slytherin for interrupting.” Snape said. Greengrass nodded and looked back at her book. Malfoy had to suppress his smirk.

Professor Snape looked back at the two boys before him. “Weasley, you may sit down and study.” Ron just stood there, confused and dumbfounded. “That  _ wasn’t _ a suggestion.” Ron mumbled thanks and quickly returned to his desk.

Looking about in confused consternation, Malfoy began spluttering before Snape cut him off “Do you think I’m an  _ idiot _ , Malfoy? Did you really think you could trick me and frame Weasley?”

“Just because Greengrass-!” Malfoy tried to say.

“This has nothing to do with Greengrass. I am not oblivious to what is happening in this lab, it was quite clear to me that you deliberately waited for Weasley to be stirring in a counter-direction before you added your ingredients. You are a fool to think I wouldn’t notice!” Snape said in a raised voice. He had expected better of Lucius’ son, but then, maybe he should not be too surprised after all.

“Did I not say, repeatedly, that this sort of behaviour is untolerable? If you had pulled a stunt like that in third year, you could have caused someone serious injury!” Snape continued.

The chastised Malfoy could only hang his head in apparent shame and try to keep his emotions in check.

“This is your first…  _ and last _ warning, Malfoy. You will be serving detention for the week, and I am taking twenty points from Slytherin house.” The Slytherins in the class failed to conceal their sharp intake of breath. “If you try anything like that again you will be permanently barred from this lab. Have I made myself clear?” he finished. Malfoy nodded and mumbled a “Yes, sir.”

“Go and sit down and continue your work then.” Malfoy turned and morosely went to his desk as he was told.

“...and after you’ve all finished gawking, the same applies to the rest of you. This is  _ your _ last warning also. Now get back to work.” Snape said firmly, and everyone promptly put their heads down to their books, as Snape called up the next pair as if nothing had happened.

Ron looked down at his book, but couldn’t really concentrate. Excitement often died down slowly. He’d been sure for a moment he was in serious trouble, and then the next minute Malfoy was in detention for a month. Rob was delighted! The way Snape had allowed Malfoy to dig his own hole was brilliant. And Greengrass had even chimed in against Malfoy. Now that had really surprised Ron, he was certain Slytherin house was mostly behind Malfoy. If they were, 20 points down might turn that around. He was interested to see how that would play out. Malfoy opposite was red faced as he stared down at his work, writing away.

The lesson ended a while later, and everyone lazily filed out as it had been the last of the day. Malfoy hurried out ahead as best he could, striding quickly. Greengrass followed Ron out, and made to go on elsewhere.

“Hey, wait a minute!” Ron called, and she stopped and turned as he came up to her.

“I, uh, just wanted to say thanks for what you told Professor Snape.” he told her.

A quiet look of surprise crossed her face. “Well, I didn’t do it for your sake, Weasley. I really just wanted to take Malfoy down a peg.”

It was Ron’s turn to look surprised. “Oh? I thought you Slytherins all liked Malfoy.”

“Are you kidding? He’s such a  _ bore _ .” Greengrass said. “That and he’s been trying to throw the weight of his name around and most of us are pretty sick of it. He’s really not as popular as you, or he, thinks he is.”

Ron looked rather thoughtful at that. That was pretty interesting. “Don’t blame you. But thanks anyway, though.”

She waived it off as she turned and left to join her friends.

Ron’s own friends caught up to him as they walked on together.

“Wow.” said Harry. “Malfoy’s never been as smart as he thought he was, has he?”

“Hardly.” Hermione agreed.

“Told you guys you were better off ignoring him. Now he’s done to himself worse than we ever could have done without getting in trouble.” said Neville.

Ron nodded. “You’re right, Neville. It’s really hard, but I’m glad I listened to you.” Ron clapped him on the shoulder. Neville beamed.

Hermione came up next to Ron. “Did I see you talking to Greengrass, there?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah, I had to say thanks, didn’t I? She didn't have to say anything, did she? For all she knew Gryffindor could’ve lost all those points!” Ron explained.

Hermione smirked slightly. “We did tell you Slytherins aren’t all bad, didn’t we?” she said.

“Hm, guess you’re right…” Ron said quietly. “I guess the house you’re in doesn’t matter so much as  _ who _ you are.”

“Exactly!” said Harry. “It only took you this long to get that!”

Ron looked a bit crestfallen at that. He did feel pretty foolish, especially remembering just how vehemently against the entire house on some sort of principle he’d been. That wasn’t exactly very smart, and whilst Ron didnt think himself amazingly clever, he didn’t like to think he was stupid either. “Yeah, well, you live and learn, I guess.”

They all headed away down the corridors to go upstairs together towards Gryffindor tower. Or at least, they tried.

“Hey, what gives?” Neville exasperated as he tried shoving against the railing of the stairs. It refused to budge, having shifted them the wrong way to get back to the tower.

“Let’s just go” said Hermione, “it’ll be quicker than waiting here for them to move back again.”

So off they went to find a way around. The stairs all seemed to be pointing weird directions today. It was fortunate Harry knew his way around pretty well despite this.

As they wandered the corridors, Ron was still thinking about his little ‘revelation’. He really wanted to talk to his friends about it, but not where the conversation would be overheard, like the dorm room. If Fred and George got wind…

Ron followed somewhat absentmindedly as Harry changed his mind and did an about turn in the corridor, everyone following. If they could just find a nice room instead somewhere-

Harry turned round  _ again _ . Hermione and Neville groaned as swivelled. Ron turned to follow- and stopped dead.

That door wasn’t there a minute ago.

The others noticed a few moments later, and came back to look at the mysterious door with Ron.

“That’s weird,” said Harry. “I’ve never seen this door before.”

He tentatively approached it, pushing it open carefully to peer inside.

Inside were four plush leather chairs on a rug, nearby a gently burning fire.

Ron stepped in past Harry and looked around.

“This  _ is  _ weird. I was just thinking I wanted a room to chat with you guys on our own.” he said.

“You did?” said Neville. “Well, why don’t we use this one, then?”

They all entered the room, the door closing behind them, and took their seats. It was not hard to be persuaded, as it was they were a bit tired from all the stairs. Some students preferred empty rooms to the dorms anyway, it was allowed.

Even if the rather particular four chairs was a bit peculiar.

“So, what is it, Ron?” Hermione asked.

Ron suddenly felt nervous under the direct question, but it needed to be said. “Well… maybe Slytherin’s aren’t so bad. And I know it bothered you, Harry, when I got angry about them. So I’m sorry.” he bowed his head with the apology.

Harry swept forward to give Ron a hug, who he took by surprise and they both fell backwards with the chair, being laughed at by the other two.

Regaining their composure, Ron asked “Why  _ did _ it upset you, anyway?”

“The hat only put me in Gryffindor because I asked it to.” said Harry. “It was unsure whether to put me there… or Slytherin.”

Ron gasped slightly. Hermione cuffed his shoulder, eliciting a complaint.

Harry continued “So whenever you were saying how  _ evil _ Slytherin’s all were, or-”

“Okay, I get it!” Ron declared. “I  _ am _ sorry, Harry. I never meant it about you of course. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I thought you’d hate me!” Harry said.

“Never.” Ron stated. “But I understand why you thought that.”

Quiet took over the room for a while. Both Ron and Harry looked happier though for having opened up and cleared the air.

“So I’m still wondering why you hated the Slytherin’s so much, Ron.” Neville asked. “You seemed to before you even  _ knew _ any of them. You even hated Professor Snape for a while!”

“I kind of needed to - well, I  _ felt _ I needed to. I wanted to, because…” Ron sighed. “If my family found out the hat wanted to put me in Slytherin-”

Everyone really did gasp that time. Ron’s annoyed look at them made them all turn quite sheepish all of a sudden. Though Ron smirked with an air of smugness.

“Guess that worked out as I wanted if you’re all  _ this _ surprised about that.” he remarked. “But don’t tell anyone else!”

Harry and Hermione both simultaneously asked why. They looked at each other amusedly, and then at Neville, realising he hadn’t also asked the same question.

“You’ve both met Fred and George, I for one do not blame Ron for not wanting to give them a reason to target him. And there’s also other Gryffindors who dislike Slytherin on principle and vice versa.” Neville explained.

“It’s not just that,” Ron said, “though that is part of it. The entire Weasley family has been proudly Gryffindor for generations, even Percy! Can you imagine being the first one to end up in a different house, seldom Slytherin of all of them! Mum and dad’d disown me the minute they found out!” Ron was starting to sound a bit upset.

Hermione put on her usual face of heavy scepticism. “I sincerely doubt that, Ron. I think your head has been filled with nonsense by those twin brothers of yours! I mean, your mum and dad still love  _ them _ , don’t they?”

Ron nodded dumbly.

“And that is  _ despite _ their… behaviour. I hardly think being in a different house would make them change the way they treat you at all.” she said.

The others commiserated.

“My dad told me he’d be happy wherever I ended up, and not to worry so much about it. And he, uh… he has reasons to dislike Slytherin. Though maybe that’s a bit like Draco again, one person can’t be fairly blamed for the reputation of the entire house.” Harry said.

Ron was looking considerably happier. The strong response to his thoughts was reassuring that perhaps he had been wrong about that assumption. He smiled at them all happily, happy to realise that things would likely not have been as harrowing as he’d thought they would have been…

Those thoughts were promptly cut off by his stomach complaining loudly. Hermione stifled a laugh as they all stood up to leave for dinner.


	10. Chapter 10

Scabbers awoke with a start. He snuffled about the foot of the bed where he had been sleeping, trying to settle himself back down again. But it was little use; he had been dreaming of Peter again.

Firmly awake now, he hopped down off the bed and wandered off. Sometimes just meandering aimlessly around the castle could be interesting, as well as distracting. And distracting was what he really needed right now.

Using a familiar crevice through the wall, he squeezed his way out of the common room into the main corridors and wandered off.

He felt little fear. Only Mrs. Norris had presented any immediate threat, but she knew better than to attack pets of students, as much as many of them assumed she was the embodiment of evil incarnate. They largely were indifferent to one another; he sometimes wondered if she could tell what he really was, but if she did she did not care, thankfully for him.

If he was lucky he would encounter teachers having brief conversations during their evening rounds of the castle, though judging by the moonlight it was a bit on the late side to find any except Filch who apparently had nothing better to do.

Tonight he scurried along downwards towards the dungeons. He didn’t often come this way but for the sake of something different…

And tonight there really was something different.

Professor Quirrell was up and about, slowly stepping his way along a dark corridor. Scabbers could’ve sworn he was muttering to himself ever so quietly, but even with his rat ears he couldn’t seem to make out any words. Maybe it was just gibberish?

That turban stank, however. The students complained enough of the stench of garlic emanating from it, such was Quirrell’s apparent fear of vampires. If the students thought  _ they _ had it bad…

Then Scabbers noticed something else hidden under the intense garlic smell. He could not be sure what it was, though. He could only liken it to the smell of some dead animal left undisturbed for a time.

But then there was something else. Something that made Peter freeze with a fear he had not felt for many years.

His right foreleg - fore _ arm _ twinged. It was only mildly painful, but then, it had not done that since - since -

_ He _ had been near.

Peter remained still until Quirrell had slowly trotted away around a corner into the gloom. Then he bolted.

~~~

With a snort, Ron woke up. Unusually he hadn’t slept all that well, considering what a heavy sleeper he usually was. He rubbed his eyes and cast a gaze across the dimly lit room, the wall mounted candles flickering just softly enough so one could find their way to the bathroom in the night. Everyone else was deeply asleep.

He noticed Scabbers was missing. That happened sometimes, he always turned up again in the morning or a couple of days later. Charlie had once joked that he had gone away to die as animals do, but had been so scruffy and scabby that even Death had turned him away, so he came back.

Rather than a joke, this was now the prevailing theory.

Either way, Ron wasn’t sleeping again any time soon. He crept downstairs to the common room and went to sit in an armchair by the minimally simmering fire. He could’ve sworn he heard a faint pop as he entered the room, but seeing nothing, shrugged and sat down anyway to think.

He thought, having talked to his friends about the Slytherin conundrum, that he had settled everything, and yet here he was. What was he missing?

Musing, he barely noticed Percy quietly coming down the stairs. “What are you doing up, Ron? You should be in bed.” he said.

“I know. Just… couldn’t sleep. Thinking.” Ron said.

Percy considered chastising him, but this was rather unlike Ron, a boy who loved his sleep almost as much as his food. He came and sat by Ron. “About what?” he asked.

Ron’s brow furrowed in thought. Then he looked at Percy. “You were sat under the sorting hat a while, weren’t you? What’d it say?”

“What  _ did _ it say,” Percy corrected “and the hat considered putting me in Ravenclaw, if you must know.” This was not what Percy had expected, but then, much of Ron’s behaviour had been a bit unexpected. Sure, he wasn’t excelling at his studies, but he was working surprisingly hard by Percy’s estimation of him. Even considering the push his friends had obviously given him.

Ron looked about nervously, leaning close to Percy. “You can keep a secret, right?” Ron whispered, his voice shaking slightly with nerves.

Percy nodded seriously. Of course he could.

“...the hat considered putting  _ me _ in  _ Slytherin _ !” Ron told him.

Now that really was surprising. Ron had always seemed very laid back and, well,  _ lazy _ , so Slytherin seemed an odd house choice. Though Ron had ended up here. No wonder Ron didn’t want that spread about though, Gryffindor and Slytherin had a bit of a rivalry as far as all the school houses interacted with each other.

Percy spoke quietly “I admit I am a bit surprised, Ron, but… well, you’re here in this house. What does it really matter?”

Ron looked unsure. He didn’t seem to know himself yet what the issue was. “I dunno, I guess… should I ask Professor McGonagall about moving house?” He said, sadly.

Percy looked at him quizzically. Move house? Whatever for?

Ron sniffled slightly. “I can’t stay in the wrong house, can I?”

Percy sighed. “There’s no  _ wrong house _ , Ron. What makes you think you’re in the wrong house?”

“It’s just that the hat said, y’know, ‘ _ Slytherin would push you far _ ’, and, it just…” Ron moaned.

“Look, Ron, don’t you  _ want _ to be in Gryffindor with your friends? You do  _ like _ them, don’t you?” Percy said.

“Well, yeah, but…” Ron whimpered.

“Then  _ that’s _ what matters most, Ron. That's what Professor McGonagall herself would tell you. And I should know as I asked her.” Percy told him.

Ron looked surprised. “You did? Why?” He asked.

Percy sighed, rolling his eyes. “You know that I wasn’t an instant placement like our brothers, right? I could have been in Ravenclaw myself. The hat thought Gryffindor would be better for me though, so I went with it as I didn’t want to be the odd one out. I was unsure that I’d made the right choice, so I did what you’re thinking of doing and went to Professor McGonagall.”

“And what did she say?” Ron asked.

“I don’t remember word for word, exactly, but she pointed out how my studies were going well, and I had good friends to study with and spend spare time with if I wanted to, and that’s what really matters; we shouldn’t set too much stock by what house we’re in, she actually said the teachers are often frustrated trying to get that into the students’ heads!” Percy said. “Everyone has pride in their house, and it's nice to be part of one, but at the end of the day, we’re all  _ Hogwarts _ students first and foremost, aren’t we?”

Ron just nodded a bit dumbly, not really sure what else to say.

Percy continued. “The two important things are that you’re able to get on and do well with school work, and that you’re socialising well… that you have  _ friends _ , Ronald.”

“Oh, right. Yeah, I do, I guess.” Ron said.

“That’s all fine then. No need to disrupt that and move house just to try to get the same, except starting from scratch, right? And I’m sure you’d miss Hagrid, Longbottom and Granger if you did, wouldn’t you? It’s not quite so easy to work together or anything when you don’t share a common room.”

Ron didn’t say anything. He was just now feeling rather foolish that he’d even been worrying about any of this. He didn’t want to move house and no one would have even known to try to make him. And apparently they wouldn’t even do that…

He felt a weight lift realising all this. Sure he  _ could _ have been in Slytherin, but he wasn’t, and here he had good friends, not to mention family too.

“Are you ok, Ron?” Percy asked, a bit concerned at Ron’s quietness. It wasn’t like Ron to be quiet.

Ron smiled and nodded at him. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks, Perce.”

Percy returned the smile with a relieved expression. They sat quietly a moment, watching the simmering flames. Then Percy stood up.

“We had both best get to bed, Ron. We shouldn’t really have been up as it is, hm?” Percy said quietly.

Ron just yawned. He came and gave Percy a quick hug of thanks, before making his way quietly to his stairs and up to bed. What an odd night, Percy thought, as he turned away to make his own way back to bed.

~~~

Hagrid was busying himself with some minor chores. Occasionally, he would glance out the window, to where Harry and his friends were having a ‘picnic’ consisting solely of hot cocoa; it was a surprisingly pleasant day for this time of year (the last day right before the Christmas holiday), so it was rather an impromptu occurrence, though he had made sure they were still sufficiently insulated. He sighed happily as he hummed to himself and carried on.

On the side sat Newt’s response, having been returned a while ago. He was too busy to make an imminent visit but seemed very interested in it all. To Hagrid’s surprise, an old rat seemed similarly interesting as an ashwinder that lasted more than a few hours (it was now clearly evident Ashe was not going to imminently expire as her forebear had done). Hagrid was aware it was odd, but magic often did odd things anyway so he hadn’t thought much of it beyond that.

He chuckled as witnessed a snowball fight break out, before finishing his kitchen work and going into his wand workroom. He looked it over, seeing that everything was in order and laid out as it should be. He sighed, mentally preparing himself for the coming effort. He had agreed to make new wands for Harry’s friends as Harry’s Christmas presents to them.

Harry had explained before about Ron and Neville both underperforming because of their mismatched wands and had wanted to do something about it. They had both had a chat a while ago and decided that Harry would give up his allowance for a while in order to pay for them. Not fully, but Hagrid couldn’t just give away such things either, so that was the compromise they had come to; he did agree with Harry that the current situation for Ron and Neville was less than ideal. Hermione would get one too as Harry didn’t want her to feel left out.

So Hagrid had had them outside while he had got prepared. They didn’t yet know what was to happen, so he was still mildly nervous, despite reassurances that he was plenty qualified for the job.

He went back into the front room and sat at the table. Ashe looked up at him from the surface, giving him ‘the look’; they had formed a sort of silent communication between them. At this particular moment ‘the look’ meant “get a grip and stop stressing your way around the house”. Hagrid glanced at her and breathed out deeply, summoning over a tankard and a bottle of his own special brew to pour out into it. Nothing too strong, just maybe a tad to take the edge off. He sipped it a bit and sat back in his chair, listening to the screams and shouts subside. Well, he was ready now. No worries.

The four trudged their way two abreast through the large entryway. Hagrid turned to look at them, got up and waved his wand at them blasting them all with a strong gust. “Hey!” they cried in complaint.

“Well, next time yer might remember to shake the snow off outside, eh?” he chuckled at them as, having removed their overcoats, they brushed themselves down straight again.

He went to the window to summon in their mugs they’d left outside, and began preparing some more cocoa to warm them up. They sat around the table, Ashe having slithered off somewhere out of the way. They all slumped in their seats, exhausted but content. They mumbled unintelligible thanks as Hagrid set down more cocoa to warm them up, with a hint of cinnamon to give it an edge to perk them up.

“So,” he said, a little loudly to make sure they were awake, “do yer want yer Christmas presents now then?”

They all sat up eagerly at that. So Hagrid fetched the presents they’d brought over earlier that day and set them on the table.

Hagrid chuckled as, with feverish excitement, they set upon the wrapped parcels, talking excitedly to each other.

Hermione had gotten everyone fresh notepads each, muggle style ones. Neville got one with a plant theme, Ron a football theme (with accompanying explanation inside as to what football is), and Harry a pet theme. All were complete with a brief study guide for the holidays, courtesy of Hermione. They all thanked Hermione happily.

Ron was especially fascinated with the football game; they weren’t allowed to use brooms at school yet so quidditch was out of the question. He thought he recognised the black and white ball, actually. Did his dad have one in the shed…?

The next set of small parcels were from Neville, who had gotten everyone a remembrall each; he remarked how his from his grandmother had proved fairly useful, particularly in conjunction with his friends helping to jog his memory. They were all appreciated.

And finally, Ron had brought everyone a nice, warm scarf each, each one an array of colours. They chose between them what they all wanted. Ron had given up some pocket money and asked his mum to make them for him. It was almost a shame they had just come in from outside!

Draining it, Hagrid set his tankard down on the table. However, Harry beat him to the punch.

“We haven’t got your presents just yet. See, I asked my dad if he could help and he’s gonna make you all wands!” he exclaimed excitedly.

“Wow, really?” Ron leaned forward. “That would be great! I don’t think this wand fits me right.” he said, looking at his inherited wand.

“Me neither,” said Neville, “though I’m not sure what gran would think of me getting a different wand…”

Hagrid stroked his chin “Well, I don’t see why it should be an issue. If there is, Oi’ll talk to ‘er, alright, Neville?” Truthfully, Hagrid couldn’t imagine there being a problem, but then it has been a long time since he’d really spoken to Augusta in a significant fashion. Not since the dark times, actually. Hmm.

“An’ I know you’re happy with your wand, ‘Ermione, but Harry didn’t want yer ter be left out, and a spare can’t hurt. Truthfully I would like to see what yer think of it next to Ollivanders’ wand.” he said.

Hermione seemed perfectly happy with that.

With that, Hagrid stood up. “‘Arry tells me you all know what he did fer his wand, so, who wants ter go firs’?”

~~~

It was a weary Hermione that left the room last, with Hagrid following behind and closing the door behind him. He was pleased with all of them, having listened well and made a good effort. Seeing them with their finished wands should prove interesting.

Hermione slumped into the spare chair at the table, where the others had been playing card games.

She turned in her chair to face Hagrid who was making some tea “Oh, please tell me what my wand is.” she said.

“No, you’re just gonna have ter wait like everyone else.” he replied. “I think it’s better to have no ideas ‘bout the wand firs’, if you catch my meaning.”

“No… preconceptions?” Hermione said.

“Yeah, tha’” Hagrid confirmed. “Ollivander’s so proud of ‘is that ‘e tells yer what it is afore you even try it out. If’n you ask me, is little wonder he so rarely sells, fer example, yew wood wands, so he says; everyone hears that and gets put off, so o’  _ ‘course _ the wand won’t like ‘em.” he said, explaining his thoughts.

She acquiesced and gave up asking.

“So Oi’ll get those all finished up over the holiday and you can have ‘em when you come back, alrigh’?” Hagrid said.

The kids all nodded, and said their thanks again. Hagrid beamed, pleased.

“And thank you too, Harry.” Hermione said. “It was a very thoughtful idea.”

“Definitely!” said Ron, excitedly. “I can’t wait to have my own wand!”

Neville, despite himself, was also quite excited. “I just hope Gran won’t mind too much that I won’t be using dad’s wand anymore…”

“You jus’ tell her firs’ thing when yeh get back, and that if she has any problems wit’ it, she can talk to me, alrigh’?” Hagrid tried to reassure him.

Neville nodded. “Alright, thanks, Hagrid.” he said.

Hagrid waved it off. Truly, it should not be Neville’s problem to defend himself from daring to want or have his  _ own wand _ , for crying out loud. Anyone else would be grateful their child was getting a free wand. Was Augusta really that likely to have some sort of issue?

Ah well, no point worrying about it right now. He went to the fireplace and poured out warm water for his tea, and offered the same for anyone else. Neville and Hermione took him up on the offer. They sat leisurely round the table, making small talk about the day, the coming holidays, that sort of thing.

“...so it’ll be nice to see mum and dad again, I’ve never been away from them for so long. I’m glad I met you guys though, otherwise I’d have been much more lonely!” Ron said.

“Not that you have that problem, right Harry?” said Neville. “What are you going to do during the holidays?” he asked.

“Work through Hermione’s plan, of course!” Harry said overenthusiastically. Everyone laughed while Hermione pouted mockingly.

“...other than that though, I can spend more time with dad and talk to the professors and play with Tenebrus and Ashe, and-”

“Ashe? Who’s Ashe?” Ron asked.

Harry blushed. He hadn’t meant to say that! However, his dad gave him a reassuring look. At this point he was sure Harry was overly paranoid; he privately wondered if that had been his fault for instilling such caution in him in the first place. He hoped not.

“Oh, right. Ashe is my, um, familiar. She’s an ashwinder.” Harry said, a little noncommitally. He felt better when his dad nudged him with his knee under the table. It was at least good knowing he was there supporting him.

Before his friends could question why that had been a secret he hadn’t bothered to tell them, he decided to beat them to it. He turned in his chair to the fireplace and said “ _ Come here to me, Ashe. _ ”

Poorly stifled gasps went round the table as Harry revealed his parseltongue before them. Ashe emerged from a hidden crevice near the fire and slithered across the floor, winding her way up Harry’s arm which he had extended to the floor. She draped herself around his neck and settled there, watching Harry’s friends carefully. She got the sense they would be fine, but she was there for her master all the same.

Harry looked round the table with a staunch expression, trying to cover up his nerves. He settled on Ron whose face had gone slightly pale, almost daring him to say what he thought. Harry had known it, that they’d never accept him for what he was. How could a  _ parseltongue  _ ever-

“Harry, I’m really sorry!” Ron blubbed.

That took Harry rather aback. The cold facade dropped. Hermione and Neville noticeably relaxed.

“Buh- erm- sorry?” Harry asked, bewildered.

“You must have felt even more awful than I thought when I was badmouthing Slytherin so much, being a parselmouth and all!” Ron said. “I never meant it!”

“Really, it’s ok Ron, you already said so.” Harry told him, trying to calm him down. “So, none of you guys actually care?”

“About what, what is a ‘parselmouth’ exactly?” asked Hermione, who was a bit lost. “Why  _ would _ we care?”

“It means he can speak to snakes.” explained Neville. “It’s a very rare ability, and the last widely known person who could was... You-Know-Who.”

“So what, because  _ he _ did, anyone else who can is assumed to be evil as well, is that it?” Hermione huffed. Ron and Neville confirmed it silently. “Why, that’s just ridiculous. It doesn’t change anything about Harry!”

Hagrid cleared his throat. “All the same, we don’t know exactly how the rest of the school will take it, so bes’ be quiet ‘bout it fer now, alright?” he said. Everyone agreed. With that, he got up, putting a firm hand on Harry’s shoulder, and left them to tidy up.

Harry smiled round the table at his friends, who smiled back at him. He really was lucky to have such great friends. He put Ashe down on the table and hissed at her that she could say hi, before repeating the same to everyone else. They leaned in for a closer look.

Ron looked confused. “So wait, how can you have an ashwinder as a familiar? They don’t live long enough for that!”

“She hatched from the egg we had in the cauldron for ages, remember? She seems quite different from fireborn ones. She’s at least a couple months old by now!” Harry said, stroking her affectionately.

Hermione asked what a familiar was exactly, and got explained it by everyone else in something of a jumble, but she seemed to get the idea. Ashe slithered round the table, silently greeting everyone who somewhat cautiously reached out to her.

Noticing them beginning to yawn, and the darkness that had descended out the window, Hagrid returned to the table and suggested they think about getting ready for bed. They were making a sleep over of it, so they wouldn’t have to make they way back up to the castle. He readied various blankets and pillows on the floor of Harry’s bedroom whilst they all got up and sorted themselves out.

After that, Hagrid decided to have a quick wander with Fang, just around the adjacent area. He let himself out the door and closed it behind them as quietly as possible. He meandered along the forest line, keeping a watchful eye on the hut.

Suddenly, he stopped sharp. He thought he saw an odd movement just in the trees up ahead. He dashed forward, drawing his wand and casting a strong “Lumos!”. On the edge of the light he cast was some sort of dark, hooded figure. “Who’s there?” he demanded.

Stopping, the figure turned to face him openly.

“Perfesser Quirrell?” Hagrid questioned, confused. “What on earth are you doin’ out ‘ere? And at this time o’ night?”

“Oh, h-hello Hagrid. Just on a n-n-night time stroll.” he said. “And what about y-you?”

“I live ‘ere.” said Hagrid plainly, giving Fang a pat to prove a point. “Really though, the forbid’n forest?”

Professor Quirrell coughed lightly, looking about himself. “W-well I like to keep sharp. I am the d-d-defence professor. I don’t go too far, b-besides.”

Well, Hagrid supposed that made a certain amount of sense. And this evidently wasn’t the first time he’d done this. “Wait, does anyone know you ‘ave these walks?” he asked, concerned.

Quirrell confirmed the negative.

“Well, ya really should tell someone, just in case. I’m sure you can take care o’ yerself, but still… you can always come let me know, alright?” Hagrid said.

“V-v-very well, Hagrid, thank you. I shall let you know in f-future.” Professor Quirrell said, before continuing on his way, a faint  _ lumos _ from his wand lighting his way.

Very odd, Hagrid thought. He couldn’t really tell him not too, it wasn’t really his business what the professors got up to in their spare time. It’s not like he owned the forest anyhow. Ultimately, access to the forbidden forest was down to Dumbledore’s discretion.

...having said that, Quirrell said that he hadn’t told anyone about his occasional night time jaunts. Maybe he should tell Dumbledore. Either way, it could wait ‘til the morning. “C’mon, Fang.” Hagrid said, as he made to head back to his home.


	11. Chapter 11

All was quiet the next morning in Hagrid’s hut. The house was empty, when quite suddenly the fire grew in intensity, and became green. Harry came through, followed by Hagrid. They had just taken Harry’s friends to King’s Cross station to go home for the holidays.

Harry yawned, stretching his arms out. He loved Hogwarts lessons, truly, but some time off was much appreciated. Even with Hermione’s lesson plan.

Hagrid, meanwhile, was already at the kitchen top, making a light breakfast of eggs and soldiers. “Yeh lookin’ forward to the holidays, then?” Hagrid asked, privately unsure.

“Oh yes, I am looking forward to some time off lessons, and talking to the professors, and stuff.” Harry said, idly waving a spoon.

“Oi was worried you’d miss yer friends, rather.” Hagrid mused, as he brought breakfast over.

“I can always owl them,” Harry said, “and I have missed the professors a bit, they’re too busy during term time.”

Idle talk continued as they ate their breakfast together. Ashe joined them at the table and helped herself to a small bit of runny egg yolk. Harry began to prod her with a toast soldier, and Ashe fought back valiantly, striking at it. Hagrid could not help but chuckle.

Just then, the fire turned green again. Hagrid looked at it questioningly, when the Headmaster’s head poked through.

“Good morning! Are you busy?” he asked.

“No, sir.” Hagrid said, shaking his head.

The Headmaster nodded, his head disappearing a brief moment before he came through, Fawkes attached at the shoulder.

Harry smiled at them both; Professor Dumbledore was very busy during term so Harry hadn’t seen much of him or Fawkes.

Fawkes hopped from Dumbledore to Harry with a flap, greeting him with a gentle crooning. It was then he spied Ashe coiled on the table, and hopped down to it to inspect her. Ashe inspected him back.

“I must admit, I did want to indulge my curiosity as well as see you both!” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “Pertaining to your familiar, I believe, Harry?”

Harry was watching the two animals interact, in that wordless way creatures did. Harry nodded without looking away.

“It has been some time since Fawkes met another familiar; I’m not surprised he wants to give yours an examination. I admit I do not recall if I was ever given the name?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry looked up at him “Oh, yes, her name is Ashe!” he said.

Dumbledore nodded intently, approaching the table to inspect her. “Most fascinating.” he mused to himself. Fawkes, satisfied with his inspection, hopped back on his shoulder. Ashe looked at the Headmaster, scenting him.

“Do you mind if we try a quick experiment, Harry? Could you say the phrase ‘greetings to you, serpent’ to her, and ask her to repeat it back?” he asked.

It sounded odd to Harry, but nonetheless he obliged, and confirmed to Dumbledore that Ashe understood the phrase as such.

“Thank you, Harry. Now I shall try.” Dumbledore leaned towards Ashe and hissed at her. Harry wondered what he was saying, but looking at Ashe’s face, it was evident she thought the same thing.

“Could you ask her what she heard?” the Headmaster asked.

“ _ What did he say to you? _ ” Harry asked Ashe.

“ _ No idea. _ ” Ashe replied. “ _ He just sounded like he was speaking, what is that phrase you humans use sometimes, ‘gibberish’? _ ”

Harry relayed to Dumbledore. Upon hearing that, he stood up straight, stroking his beard. “Most curious.” he said. “I was all but certain my pronunciation was good.”

“I thought so too, yer both sounded the same ter me.” said Hagrid.

Dumbledore looked to him. “Truly? Then I can only suppose my theory is, unfortunately, correct.” 

“Theory, sir?” Hagrid asked.

“I do believe that snakes can hear sounds we cannot, like many other animals. Perhaps Harry is speaking those tones without knowing it, whereas I am quite unable to.” explained Dumbledore. “Apparently Muggles are well aware of sounds they cannot hear, so perhaps perusing their literature would be enlightening…” he mused to himself.

They all went quiet as Fawkes helped himself to the remaining eggshell on the table. Ashe scented his legs, fascinated. Harry supposed it was only natural, Fawkes also being a creature with strong associations with fire.

“Tea?” Hagrid asked, breaking the silence.

“I would be very appreciative of a mug” Dumbledore said, taking a seat at the table. He glanced over at Harry, who was giving Fawkes a good stroke in the nape of his neck. Fawkes crooned.

“Why don’t you go outside with him for a bit, Harry, I’m sure he could use some exercise!” Dumbledore chuckled. Fawkes sneered back at him.

Harry smiled excitedly and, throwing on a coat, took Fawkes outdoors for some mock falconry. Ashe decided to stay indoors, coiling around Hagrid’s large, hot mug.

Sipping his tea, Dumbledore asked Hagrid about how Harry was doing. They talked about his success in his school work and how his relations with other students were. Then they talked a bit about how Hogwarts itself was running, and Hagrid’s jobs.

Hagrid drained his mug, Ashe uncoiling as he set it and and slithering away somewhere. “That reminds me,” he said, having just been discussing the Christmas tree hed fetched in, “do you know why Professor Quirrell has late night walks in the forest ‘ere?”

“I was not aware he was.” Dumbledore said.

Hagrid frowned. “Well, ‘e said yer knew, else I’d’ve had sterner words fer ‘im.”

Dumbledore sighed. He leaned forward across the table. “I think I must tell you something in strict confidence, Hagrid. I had not deigned to inform you sooner as it is a delicate situation. You  _ must _ keep this secret, is that clear?”

Hagrid nodded firmly.

The Headmaster steepled his fingers on the table. “As you know, we are guarding the philosopher’s stone within the school. This is in order to protect it from Voldemort.”

Hagrid’s eyes widened in shock. Dumbledore raised a hand to hush him, so he could finish explaining.

“He has proved incredibly difficult to track for the past decade since his undoing at Godric’s Hollow, but recent signs have shown he is after the stone. Nicholas moved it to Gringotts where he believed it safer, but I informed him I was uncertain and suggested I safeguard it here at Hogwarts. It was a good thing I did as the vault containing it was broken into shortly after I removed it.”

“My current belief is that Professor Quirrell, given his peculiar change of heart as to accepting the defence tutoring position, has been in contact with Voldemort and is trying to aid him in some way.”

“You can ask questions now, if you wish.” Dumbledore smiled jovially at Hagrid’s blank expression.

Before he did anything else, Hagrid stood up and retrieved a tankard of his own drink before sitting down again.

“Why didn’t yer tell me before now?” he asked. “Yeh know I’m-”

“-resistant to legilimency, yes. I was more concerned that you would treat Professor Quirrell differently if you did know, and it is absolutely imperative that he and Voldemort remain convinced that none of us are aware that he in particular is still around, or else I fear this one opportunity to capture him may be lost.” Dumbledore said seriously. “This is also why I have not moved to attempt to apprehend Quirrell myself, I am sure that Voldemort would flee the moment I acted against Quirrell.’

Hagrid sipped at his homebrew, listening intently. He thought a moment, then realised something. “The third floor corridor… tha’s where the stone is, ain’t it? Yeh thinking of usin’ it as bait! Tha’s why yer told everyone about it!”

The Headmaster smiled gently. “Indeed, Hagrid. It’s ideal; I could give away the location under the guise of keeping the students safe. But rest assured, no student could possibly get past that door, I have made quite sure of that.”

Hagrid frowned thoughtfully, mulling the matter over.

“I don’ like knowing that what amounts to a death eater is wanderin’ the school.” He said, finally.

Dumbledore sighed. “I don’t either, Hagrid. But preventing Voldemort from ever returning is too important. And likewise for Voldemort and Quirrell, I do not think he is so foolish as to scupper his one chance to obtain the stone by doing anything against the students.”

“So, you must behave normally around Quirrell for now. Do you understand?”

“O’ ‘course, 'Eadmaster.” Hagrid said, bowing his head. “So, you know what he’s up ter in the forest?” he asked.

“I’m afraid not, Hagrid. I would hesitate a guess that Voldemort is hiding out in the forest and Quirrell is merely liaising with him.” Dumbledore said. “I would not object to you keeping an eye out for anything untoward if Quirrell or Voldemort  _ are _ doing anything else out there, but again I stress that they must remain convinced that we are unaware of them.”

Hagrid agreed quietly, and gently finished his drink. Dumbledore seemed to have become introspective. Hagrid merely watched him, and hoped that Dumbledore was right that that was the only thing Quirrell was up to.

~~~

Later that day, Harry was wondering around the castle. Few students had remained behind, and none that Harry talked to much either, but he was quite content nonetheless.

He was just inspecting a tapestry (it featured knights on horseback, the threads weaving in and out of each other as they trotted about) when he heard Professor Snape snarling under his breath, as he came down the corridor towards the potions lab. Harry looked askance at him.

Professor Snape sighed. “You wouldn’t happen to know of anyone breaking into my tertiary store cupboard, would you?” he asked.

Harry shook his head. “What happened?”

“One of my _Hirudo_ _medicinalis_ have gone missing, my larger breeding stock to boot. I am… _displeased_.” Professor Snape stressed.

His student just looked at him, confused.

“A  _ leech _ , Harry. A large one.” he said.

“Oh.” Harry said a bit dumbly. “Er, I don’t know of anyone having one, no.”

“I don’t suppose you would be likely to.” said Professor Snape. “I doubt any lower year students would have been able to remove the wards on the door  _ and  _ successfully reapply them to mask the fact afterwards.”

And Harry would have thought students old enough to do that would know better than to risk Professor Snape’s ire. Harry thought a moment; could anyone get in there regardless of the wards?

“Could Peeves have got in, sir?” Harry said.

Professor Snape fingered his wand. “It is… highly probable. I shall bide my time to enact the appropriate vengeance. Thank you, Harry. I will consider the matter closed.” he said with a curt nod. He leaned close to Harry. “Which means keep quiet and don’t let anyone know.” he whispered. Then strode off purposely down the corridor.

Harry continued wandering around the castle. What could Peeves want with a leech? Harry shuddered to think what he could do with it. He certainly couldn’t think what anyone else would want a leech for. Not that he knew the upper years particularly well, mind, but it seemed unlikely any of them would have done it. And that only left the teachers who were even less likely culprits. So that just left Peeves.

He found himself higher up the castle, and walked past Professor McGonagall’s office. He peered in as the professor was transfiguring a teacup into a teaspoon. The professor didn’t even look up. “It seems I have quite the audience today!” she said. Harry stepped into the room quietly to find Nearly Headless Nick floating in a corner, watching with mild interest.

She continued her work, a large selection of somewhat varied objects (teacups, saucers, teapots, teacosies) all being transfigured into identical teaspoons. Harry watched in silence, fascinated.

The last tea strainer became a teaspoon, and McGonagall breathed out, and called a house elf to fetch her some tea. It promptly appeared as she sat down at the nearest desk, stirring a sugar lump into it. “Are you well, Harry?” she asked.

Harry nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, thank you ma’am. I was just seeing what you were up to, is all.”

Professor McGonagall gestured to the assortment of teaspoons now littering a couple of desks. “Just some preparation for the second years next term; they need to figure out what the teaspoon used to be.” she looked at them, sipping her tea. “A bit advanced for first years, you still need to be more familiarised with transfigurations before we try reversing work.”

Coming over to examine them, Harry scrutinised the spoons, and picked one up. He could feel a soft magic within it, if he concentrated. “I can feel it’s not really a spoon, at least. Nothing more than that, though.” he said.

The professor smiled, pleased. “That’s very astute of you, Harry. Most first years wouldn’t notice that. But then I suppose Hagrid did teach you to do that, didn’t he?”

Harry grinned, and went off chatting about his wand and how it had been made. He also mentioned how he’d asked his dad to make wands for his friends, too.

“How thoughtful of you, Harry. I am glad, I had actually had concerns about Weasley and Longbottom.” the professor said.

“Oh?” Harry questioned.

Professor McGonagall huffed in amusement. “Both of them had been having trouble with their spells consistent with second hand wands, so maybe some new ones just for them will help. However, I could never understand what Longbottom’s trouble was, he is from a well off family…”

“Neville says he has his dad’s wand, that his gran gave him.” Harry said.

The professor’s eyes widened momentarily in realisation. “I see. The poor boy. It is a good thing you are both doing for him, Harry.”

Harry just smiled gently.

Crossing the room, Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk. “So, how’s your animagus reading going?” she asked Harry.

He followed her and sat down in a chair opposite her desk, and began talking excitedly about how soon he hoped he could try it, and what was it like getting stuck like that…

~~~

Fawkes trilled gently, keeping the Headmaster in the mood for the paperwork he was sorting through before him. He really could do without it, but then, he supposed this was what he got for refusing to accept the ministerial position. A lot of the important stuff came across his desk anyway. He could hardly say no, being chief warlock. And alienating Cornelius would perhaps be unwise besides. He had been helpful in the past, so it seemed only fair.

Without looking up, Dumbledore called for a mug of black tea and a single brown sugar lump to be placed upon his desk. It appeared as if by magic. Dumbledore smiled to himself in amusement at the phrase.

Henceforth, the stone staircase could be heard rotating upwards, followed by a sharp rap at the door.

“Come in, Severus. I just need to finish this work here. Your tea is waiting for you.” the Headmaster said.

The irritated looking potions master took up his tea as he sat down in the plush leather armchair provided. Between the tea and Fawkes, he had relaxed visibly by the time Dumbledore finished his writing, and set the papers aside. “So, what has occurred?” he asked Severus.

Severus breathed out over his tea, and put it down. “One of my breeding leeches is missing. And the culprit did so without breaking my wards; that or replacing them perfectly. I suspect Quirrell.”

“Is that all?” Dumbledore asked.

“Mm. My initial anger before I realised the likely suspect lead to me telling Harry. However, he suggested Peeves, and I agreed and told him to keep quiet about it.” Severus said.

The Headmaster sat back thoughtfully. “I’m afraid I am unable to discern any particular use they could have for just a single leech. I can’t think of any particularly useful potions that require such secrecy.”

“What is obvious is that he intended to not be noticed. He covered his tracks expertly, and most people wouldn’t even notice or care about a single leech. It is a good thing I keep updated records myself.” said Severus.

Dumbledore nodded agreeably, listening. “I myself just learned from Hagrid that he also has been sneaking out into the forbidden forest.” This caused Severus’ eyebrows to rise. “Apparently I was already aware so had given my permission for him to do so. He says that he just likes to ‘keep sharp’ by doing so. It might be nothing and yet, the attempted secrecy makes me suspicious that he is up to something.”

“And presumably Hagrid has no reports of anything untoward from the forest thus far?” asked Severus. The Headmaster shook his head.

They sat quietly a moment, trying to puzzle it out.

“Is Harry safe?” Severus asked. “If he’s sneaking out by the hut…”

“Nothing has changed in regards to Harry’s safety. The hut is as safe as it ever will be, and I am confident Quirrell is not foolish enough to jeopardise everything by trying. He has had plenty of opportunity to do so already and has evidently made no attempt to do so.” said the Headmaster.

Severus grimaced at that. He knew that already, but it only did so much to assuage the discomfort the situation caused.

Naturally, the Headmaster was canny to what he was thinking. “I quite agree that it is a difficult circumstance, but we must remember the greater good. Voldemort  _ must _ be stopped, before he finds a way to come back and start the war again. No one would even be prepared if he did, it would be worse than before.” he said.

Sighing, Severus sipped his tea some more.


	12. Chapter 12

It was not often an owl that Hagrid did not recognise deigned to visit, but early this afternoon one did. Hagrid was busy in his workroom when he heard a loud but polite rapping upon the window of the man room. He left his work to find a very proper looking great eared owl sat expectantly on the windowsill. Once the window was opened, the owl proffered the letter tied to it's leg to Hagrid, but remained there anyway. Hagrid offered it a small mouse; it seemed surprised to be offered anything, but took it gratefully anyway. Meanwhile, Hagrid unrolled the letter-

_ To Rubeus Hagrid of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, _

_ My grandson Neville has informed me that you intend to gift him a wand for the Christmas season. Whilst the thought is appreciated, Neville already has a perfectly serviceable wand so a new one is far from necessary. It would be best that, if you truly must give him something, that you find something else. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Augusta Longbottom _

Hagrid groaned audibly, putting his head in a hand. He had hoped she would be too polite to decline and just let it be, as much as he was aware of her personal difficulties. He remembered to thank the owl and waved it off; a reply would not be forthcoming. Not by owl, anyway.

He knew it was not truly his place to interfere, but he knew Neville well enough that he just felt like he couldn't  _ not _ do something. Problem being that no one felt it was their place, and ultimately poor Neville was the one suffering for it.

Sitting down at the table with a cup of tea, he took some time to compose himself. This was not going to be pleasant; he'd never been the best at navigating the social protocols of so called 'higher society'. Augusta was no Malfoy, but even so she had a strong sense of propriety. But there was naught else to be done for it.

He scrawled out a quick note to Harry that he was away for now, should he return from the school in his absence, before taking a deep breath and tossing some floo into the fireplace, asking for the Longbottom mansion. He stuck his head through to see a large, airy and rather empty welcoming room. A house elf promptly appeared. "Who is be asking?" she asked.

"Rubeus Hagrid of Hogwarts. Oi'd like a little chat with Augusta, may I come through?" Hagrid said. He took his head out so as to go through, in the event the elf tried to refuse.

He stepped in to the welcome room, the elf having already left to fetch her master.

Soon enough, Augusta herself swept in, stopping to look Hagrid over.

"I can only suppose you received my letter, then?" she queried.

"Yes'm." Hagrid said.

She made no attempt to hide her annoyed frown, but nonetheless did not attempt to immediately chuck him out. She trotted out the room, evidently expecting Hagrid to follow, and they passed through a dining room before coming to an entertaining room. Elaborate but stiff and upright armchairs dotted the room. Hagrid settled for a sturdy looking footstool.

Augusta placed herself in an obviously favoured chair. "So, Mr. Hagrid, you know Neville from school, I understand?"

Such an opener seemed a bit odd to Hagrid, but then, this was par for the course for higher society. There are pleasantries that must be observed for some reason Hagrid could never understand, why not just get straight to the point? He secretly suspected such behaviour was more a ruse to interrogate each other first under the veil of polite conversation. He could never be sure though.

"Oh yes, he's one of Harry's closest friends, so I see 'im fairly frequently. Bright lad, loves 'is plants, don' 'e?" Hagrid said.

"It's curious, isn't it? Neither of his parents showed such an inclination themselves, so who knows where it comes from." said Augusta. "I'm sure his magic is like his father's though, he has a good bond with Frank's old wand."

"Well… Ah'm not so sure, meself." Hagrid said. Here they were; it seemed Augusta wasn't too interested in entertaining him for long at all. Despite that, the elf appeared with a tray of tea and light sandwiches. They both took up a mug each as a distraction.

Augusta cocked her head, almost imperceptibly. "And what, Mr. Hagrid, makes you think that?" she asked. There was just a touch of bitterness in her voice.

He sipped the tea gently and politely. "His wand work is a bit iffy; Perfessor McGonagall reckons it's cos 'is wand ain't a good match, same as Ron."

Augusta also sipped her tea, holding the saucer under it. Hagrid had forgotten to do that, but doing so now would probably be more awkward. "Neville has always been a bit on the slow side, that'll work itself out. Ron is the Weasley boy, is he not?" Hagrid nodded. "What's wrong with his wand?"

"Is 'is brothers old wand, which might've been someone else's afore tha'" said Hagrid.

"Ah, well, when it's so far removed I'm not surprised. Not like Frank's wand, his own fathers…" the subtle hint of wistfulness in her voice did not reassure Hagrid. It was subtle though, Hagrid doubted she herself noticed it.

"Bu' yer see, Ron and Neville are havin' the same problems. Their theory work is good and not matchin' up with their wand work-" Hagrid tried to explain.

"Looks like I'll have to have a word with Neville, then, he's obviously not applying himself properly." Augusta said over him.

"Tha's not fair, it's not 'is fault, he's tryin' 'ard as he can!" Hagrid said, frustrated.

Augusta looked somewhat taken aback at Hagrid's, but she was a stern woman and it didn't phase her. "That wand was a perfect match for Frank, he did great magic, so Neville-"

"- _ isn't Frank. _ " ground out Hagrid. "Nor is he that much like him."

"And what would you know about that?" Augusta demanded.

Hagrid took a large sip from his mug. "I did know Frank, and Alice, well enough, ya know. We were all there during the war, doing what we could."

They both sat silently for a while, both struck by memories. Augusta evidently more so, but Hagrid allowed her some space to breathe and mourn. She was a strong character, but couldn't help her deep sense of loss. Anyone else would have tears streaming down their face, but she was the epitome of self control, Hagrid thought, as he watched her look into her tea. Thinking of the empty house, and Neville's unflattering commentary of his extended family, he doubted she'd had any real support ever since Frank and Alice were lost to them, as it were. The fact they weren't dead probably made this all the worse. Hagrid felt deeply for her, and regretted his harshness.

"'Arry's not like James at all." Hagrid said quietly, breaking the reverie.

"No?" Augusta asked.

Hagrid shook his head. "'E's not totally diff'ren', bu' he doesn't have quite the same streak for mischief either. We gave 'im… uh… an old pranking item of 'is dad's, and he hasn't used it. Not for that, anyways."

The Longbottom matriarch took a sandwich and delicately took a small bite. She looked somewhat like she wanted to say something, but she just sat there.

Hagrid set his mug down on the table. "Thanks for the tea, ma'am, but I think I best be off, Harry'll be startin' ter miss me… where's Neville, come ter think of it?"

"In the garden." Augusta said quickly.

Hagrid couldn't help smirking. "'Course 'e is." he said, standing up and getting himself together. "C'n see meself out?" he asked her.

She nodded, not looking up to him. "Yes, please do, I have some things to attend to here."

Making a subtle bow of courtesy, Hagrid took his leave.

~~~

It was a cool, misty morning, late in December. The low sun shone over the hut, beginning to creep up to the windows. A heavy blanket of snow glistened, disturbed only by the occasional irritated twitch of Hagrid’s vegetables. Tenebrus stood alone away from the tree line, misty breath visible in the air as he snorted.

The sunlight climbing up the windows eventually found a gap in the curtains that shone into the closed eyes of Harry. That was all it took as he sat up immediately and bolted out of bed, hastily throwing on the nearest robe. Ashe hissed irritably but good-naturedly as she slunk back under the duvet.

Dad was soon awoken by the streaking mop of messy black hair, the head it was attached to, and not much else.

It was very rare for Harry to hear his dad make any sort of noise that could be considered ‘shrieking’. He supposed later that most people would when unexpectedly attacked and awoken by a disembodied head.

Harry was quite taken aback, before his dad rubbed his eyes, looked at him, and burst out laughing instead!

He looked down and realised he’d thrown on the invisibility cloak by mistake in his haste. He began laughing too. The sight of  _ that  _ caused Hagrid to laugh even louder.

Eventually they both calmed down, breathing heavily and wiping tears from their eyes. Harry’s cloak was loose about his shoulders now, his midsection peculiarly shifting in shape as it moved.

“It’s Christmas!” he exclaimed excitedly, wrapping his arms about his dad’s great chest as best he could.

“Merry Christmas, Harry.” Hagrid said lovingly, returning the embrace. Harry then twitched to get away, dashing to the front room to inspect the tree.

Indeed, as expected, some presents had materialised there overnight. Harry never failed to find this highly exciting. His dad yawned his way into the room behind him, wearing his own large and heavy gown, and pointed his wand at the teapot to make it hot again. Ah, the luxuries of spells sometimes. He took a seat on the hearth as Harry shuffled the gifts about, passing them into place between them.

Hagrid had the majority of the gifts, seeing as Harry had already had his from his friends. His dad had plenty of his own adult friends, some that Harry didn’t really know very well. Harry could only feel pleased, knowing that his dad hadn’t always had so many.

He grinned as his hair was tousled by a large hand, Hagrid having noticed him smiling at him.

It seemed that the parcels were all handed out, so together they duly began shredding them open (with Fang’s help), taking time to see what they had each received.

By the end, they each had a decent haul and were quite pleased. Last of all, however, Hagrid got up and pulled a decent sized wrapping from amongst the tree branches. He tweaked his nose as Harry sulked mock indignance at having missed it.

Not to be outdone, Harry pulled out his own (much smaller) present from within the invisibility cloak. Now it was dad’s turn to sulk moodily.

His dad kissed him soundly on the forehead as he lowered the parcel into Harry’s lap, and took his own from Harry, as he sat down next to Harry in his best attempt to cross his legs.

They both began to tear the paper off simultaneously in the unspoken race of who can get in first. As usual, Hagrid won, having larger hands and a smaller parcel.

Inside was a framed picture of himself, Harry, Fang, Ashe and Tenebrus stood together, obviously hand drawn by Harry himself and coloured with watercolours. The figures jostled about slightly on the paper. Hagrid beamed at it, standing up to place it on a shelf with a good viewpoint. It was pretty good, thought Hagrid, as he stood back to admire it. He scooped Harry up easily with a yelp, and held him close. “Thank yer, Harry. It’s really wonderful.” he said. Harry grinned broadly, pleased with himself.

After a moment, Hagrid returned Harry to his feet to finish opening up his own parcel. Half done already, Harry quickly pulled out an album. Curious, Harry opened it for a look. Inside the front page was a photograph of his first mum and dad, he recognised. They jostled together, smiling happily, in their school uniforms in front of the Hogwarts Express. It looked like graduation day. Harry flicked through a few more pages, seeing many more photos that featured his parents, with various friends and relations, some recognised and others not.

Harry gazed at it in fascination. A quiet  _ ahem _ drew him out of his reverie.

“So, yer like it then?” Hagrid asked.

Harry flicked through it some more, stopping on a picture of Lily sat next to a probable professor with a sizeable moustache, chatting idly over fancy looking food. “It’s fantastic dad. I don’t recognise these photos though…” he trailed off, looking at James grinning and swaying on a thin, speedy looking broom as he held aloft a snitch. Harry shuddered at the thought.

“Well, Oi’ve been asking round e’ryone I could think of, an’ a few that I couldn’, for any they might duplicate fer us.” said his dad. “So I think this should be most all of ‘em that could be left.”

Lily, James and a not-really-younger-looking Hagrid crowded around a table, having a laugh about something, Lily with a noticeable bump in her midsection. Gently, Harry closed the pages and put the album down, hopping up and hugging his dad tightly, who leaned down and returned it. “Thanks dad.” was spoken in a muffle into the softer lounge clothes he was wearing.

“Yer welcome, Harry.” Hagrid whispered back, stroking his head. Harry released him and stepped back. “So, fancy some Christmas cake?”

-

Harry, Hagrid and Fang tromped through the snow, glistening strongly as the sun was low in the sky now. The huffed their way back into the front door, after a long Christmas trek, covering some of the wooded and treeless parts of the grounds.

Tenebrus had followed them at first but had sauntered off into the woods part way through. Hagrid had made Christmas greetings to a group of centaurs they came across, who responded in kind, of course in their own unusual fashion. But the sentiment was the same, and it was appreciated.

The boarhound barged in first as they opened the door, shaking himself off and heading for the fire. Harry did much the same.

Removing his overcoat, Hagrid draped it over the coatstand, removing a flask from the inner pocket as he did so. He downed the contents and put it in the kitchen. As he did so, he noticed a new parcel had materialised under the tree.

He was about to ask Harry if he knew anything when he remembered they hadn't had anything from Professor Dumbledore. Abandoning a mysterious parcel here was just his style. Hagrid shook his head, kneeling down to carefully retrieve it. It was surprisingly heavy.

Harry looked up questioningly from where he was sat as Hagrid looked it over. For once it had a label. He turned it over, and read it out.

_ Dear Hagrid family, _

_ This was gifted to me some time ago, but I have no need of it. I thought you could both make good use of it. Be warned that it is quite delicate! _

_ Merry Christmas, _

_ Albus Dumbledore _

I knew it, thought Hagrid. Harry jumped up at him, eager to see what it could be.

"Alroight, alroight, hold yer horses, Harry. Be no good if we break it now, will it?" said Hagrid, as he lowered it gingerly to the floor. It was quite heavy, whatever it was. Like a stone.

Harry looked up at him askance as he knelt over it, wasting no time as Hagrid nodded affirmatively. Harry shredded away the brown paper and string holding it together, revealing some sort of bowl. It looked hand carved out of stone, just like Hagrid had thought. Amazingly smooth for that. Curious patterns and runes that Hagrid did not recognise adorned the rim. Eventually, Hagrid realised what it was, and breathed deeply.

"A pensieve…" he muttered.

"A what?" asked Harry.

"A pensieve, Harry. You can see memories, anyone's, in clear detail, just like yer in them. Is some pow'rful magic." Hagrid explained. He cupped it in his hands and lifted it to the table as Harry checked the paper wrapping before throwing it onto the fire. Ashe slid down from the mantlepiece into the fire, enjoy the fresh burst of heat. Harry added some small logs too.

He came over to the table and peered into the bowl. It just looked like more stone. He frowned, concentrating.

Hagrid chortled. "Not like  _ tha' _ , Harry, we need ter put in a mem'ry firs'." Drawing his wand, Hagrid touched it to his temple, gently pulling away what looked like long hairs, or silk threads, silvery and soft looking. Hagrid lowered the peculiar wisps to the surface of the bowl. Once below the rim, they coalesced into a misty liquid instead. Harry could faintly see what looked like shapes moving in it.

Hagrid allowed Harry his moment of fascination, before gently tilting his head towards it as he did his own. Harry glanced up to see that his dad was doing the same, and so allowed it.

Hagrid, making sure to keep hold of Harry's hand, felt the strange weightlessness take hold, as he touched ground and the environment swiftly, yet gradually, materialised around them. Harry seemed surprised to be outside in the snow again, before gasping in shock.

They both saw themselves wandering across the snow covered field, along with Fang. Listening closely to the words, Harry recognised the conversation they'd had just earlier that day.

Leading Harry along, Hagrid went up to the other selves. "So this is my mem'ry of jus' earlier, Harry. As yer c'n see…" he ran forward and jumped about and hollered in front of the memory selves, which walked straight through him, continuing to babble. He came back to Harry, who couldn't keep that smile off his face "...they don' notice us. They're jus' mem'ries, so 'member tha'. We c'n only stay within the memory, too." he said, pointing at the forest and field behind themselves, which was beginning to encroach on them. Beyond the boundary was a white nothingness. "We go beyon' that an' we leave the memory. We can' go willy nilly anywhere, much as you might think it a' first."

Harry took it all in, quietly. It really was a strange sensation. Truly, the memory felt and looked as real as anything. Harry knew this to be the powerful magic of the pensieve, as trying to simply recall such things in your own head was never this clear and detailed.

As it was, things began to become blurry (with the exception of his dad next to him), and a moment later Harry found himself face first in the pensieve. It was very odd, not having drowned and continuing to breathe despite feeling the liquid around his face. He lifted his head out, expecting to need to find a towel to dry off, but found he was totally dry. He patted his face in confusion.

"Hahah!" Hagrid chuckled quietly. "Memories ain't like water, Harry. Y'don' get wet."

He waved his his wand over the bowl and the contents drained away into nowhere. He looked down at it shrewdly. He had a suspicious feeling about what Professor Dumbledore anticipated and intended this could be used for. He was nervous about doing so.

"Now Harry, I was thinking that maybe… yer might like to see yer mum an' dad in 'ere." Hagrid said, uncertainly.

Hagrid had told Harry a lot about his birth parents, and Harry wished he had known them. He knew that in a small way, when he was at his youngest, he did know them, and he felt that knowledge when he heard about them or looked at photographs of them. He gazed hungrily at the pensieve. Hagrid waited quietly and patiently, which set Harry at ease to think.

He understood now what the point of looking at the memory of just an hour ago was. It was inherently fascinating as a first glimpse into the pensieve and how it worked, but it also showed Harry what to expect. If he saw his parents, they would not see him, nor could he touch them. It was kind of like being in a photograph. It wasn't… real, not like that.

Harry stopped looking at the bowl. "I think I'd like to someday, dad, but not now. I…" he trailed off.

Hagrid knelt down and hugged him tightly. "Don' need ter 'splain ter me, 'Arry. Whatever you want ter do." He held him close for a moment, and kissed him on the head as he released him. He scruffed his hair fondly. "Could show yer something else if yer loik?" he asked. Harry nodded eagerly.

"Hmm, well then, how about…" he reached up and pulled a new memory, placing it into the bowl.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Yeh'll see." Hagrid said simply, as Harry came over and they went into the memory together.

~~~

It was gone 10am when the Hagrids got up the next day; they had stayed up fairly late, usually being up and about earlier. Hagrid had just finished tidying up the front room when the fire turned green. He hadn't necessarily been expecting a floo call.

A woman's head appeared in the fire. "Hello, where are- oh, there you are, Hagrid! Is that dear Harry I see behind you too? Do you mind if we pop in?"

It was, of course, recognisable as Mrs Weasley. Hagrid barely had time to register what was going on and mutter something noncommittal before she had already retreated, evidently to come through. Using his own trick against him, Hagrid thought.

The fire flashed green and rose higher, as Ron came through first. "Heya Harry!" he said excitedly, coming over.

"Hi Ron!" Harry hugged him in return. "Feels like it's been ages already."

"It does, doesn't it? We should- ack!" Ron finished as Fred and George came through together, barging into him.

"Sorry, didn't see you there, Ron!" said George, mischievously.

"Gonna introduce mum to your boyfriend then, Ron?" Fred asked. Ron blushed deeply in anger, half-heartedly kicking him. "Alright, I yield, I yield!" Fred mocked.

They all shuffled together across the room as Percy came through, making his polite greeting to the homeowner as he looked around in fascination.

Finally, Arthur and Molly followed through in quick succession.

Quickly thinking, Hagrid thrust his wand at the kettle across the room, which made its way to hang over the fire. "Hullo! Been quite a while, hasn't it?" he greeted Molly and Arthur, shaking Arthur's hand and giving Molly the customary kiss. At the front door, Harry let out Fang who was feeling a bit overwhelmed.

"Oh, hello, Hagrid! It really has been too long hasn't it?" said Arthur.

Hagrid went to prepare tea for everyone, though Molly somehow pushed aside to do so herself. Arthur just laughed at them.

The kids were all chatting amongst themselves for now, as is natural, giving the adults some space.

"So, have a good Christmas yesterday?" Hagrid asked the Weasley parents.

"Indeed we did!" said Arthur, "We just about had everyone home, though Bill and Charlie both have had to get back to work already. Big, important projects the both of them. I'm sure you'll be interested to hear that Charlie's currently responsible for a Rhodesian Ridgeback that just hatched a few weeks ago; aurors confiscated the egg from a black market dealer."

Hagrid listened, fascinated. That wasn't something that cropped up too often; it was the rare fool that would buy a dragon egg, so they were equally rare in the black market, despite the high price they’d potentially go for. And that's discounting the illegality in the first place.

Molly came over with two mugs of tea, and a larger one for Hagrid. He thanked her for remembering not to give him one of the guest mugs too.

"It's all very fascinating, but I'm sure Hagrid wants to know why we're actually here." said Molly.

They all then got briefly distracted as the kids followed Harry into his room, who was quite excited to show them his presents.

"We found out that you were making Ron a bespoke wand." Arthur said. "So we wanted to thank you personally."

Hagrid blushed gently with embarrassment. "Naw, y'don' need ter really, though I 'spose Ah'm glad someone appreciates it."

"Nonsense, Hagrid, you're doing our family a real service. We were always frustrated we couldn't afford Ron his own wand, it's not really fair…" said Arthur.

"When did Ron tell yer, then?" Hagrid asked.

Molly sipped her tea rather loudly. "After we asked  _ him _ about it, the silly boy hadn't thought to tell us! We had to hear from Augusta first!" she said.

Hagrid looked at her with raised eyebrows.

Molly continued. "She sent us a letter more or less asking what our opinion was on 'unsolicited wand gifts' and what did we think of you giving Ronald a wand without asking our permission first…"

"W-what did yer say, then?" asked Hagrid, with some concern.

Molly huffed softly. "Well, first of all we asked Ron what exactly this whole business was about. He told us alright, just he'd forgotten to say, or didn't think it was important or something. Silly boy, of course it was… anyway, yes, we heard everything from Ron and simply replied to Augusta with what a good thing it was; as we said to you, not getting Ron his very own wand was something we'd never really been happy about. We haven't heard back from her, anyway."

Hagrid wondered what Augusta had made of that. The Weasley's didn't have the highest standing in society but their old name commanded at least a modicum of respect. He hoped she would listen to someone else also say something in Neville's favour, so far as he saw it.

"Fascinating process, Hagrid." Arthur said. "The wand  _ parts  _ choose the wizard, rather than the wand? I wonder what Ollivander would make of that."

Hagrid scratched his beard. "Y'know, I never did tell 'im. Though, the only wizard with a wand I made that way is Harry, at the moment. I would rather see how well it works for others too before I do."

"Did you finish the wands for Christmas yet?" Arthur asked.

"Yes, Ah'm gonna give 'em out at the start of term, save 'em having to jus' look at ti 'til then." said Hagrid.

Molly glared at Arthur, who had a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Arthur…" she warned.

Arthur ignored her. "What say we let him try it now? There's enough responsible adults here, and we're on school grounds. Why not?"

Hagrid was unsure how to answer for fear of angering Molly, but from the look on her face she had already acquiesced. "Well, uh… why not, I 'spose?"

As if on cue, the bedroom door opened and all the boys reentered the living space. Harry fetched cups of various juices for everyone, as Molly shrewdly eyed the twins. Hagrid noticed Percy was gently glowing red. Arthur seemed to notice too, but just smirked with amusement, out of Molly's sight.

"So, Ron!" Arthur got the attention of the room. "We were just having a chat with Hagrid and thought that maybe you want to try your new wand out?"

All the boys looked excited at that. "Definitely!" cried Ron. "I didn't think I'd get to 'til term started."

"Me too, but yer parents decided ter treat yer. Let me jus' fetch it a minute…" Hagrid trailed off as he went to his workshop. Arthur sidled along behind him, shoving his nose round the door in curiosity. He watched as Hagrid opened a drawer at the far end of the room and drew a wand out of it, removing the label he'd attached. Arthur stepped back to let Hagrid out, who closed the door behind him.

Hagrid came up to Ron and stopped before him. "I present to you your wand, young master." he said, as he presented it forth.

Ron smiled up at him with an excited grin, taking the wand nervously. He held it before him and looked it up and down. His brothers peered round each other to try to get a look. He wondered what it was.

"And no, Ah'm not tellin' yer what it is 'til yer try it." Hagrid said preemptively.

Wondering what to try, Ron looked around the room. The wand already felt a better fit than his previous one, so he thought about something that didn't go well in class. Transfiguration came to mind first. "Do you have any needles, Harry? he asked.

Ron was promptly presented with one from one of many pots of knick knacks on the shelves. With this new wand, Ron felt confident this would work now. He understood McGonagall's taught technique well enough. The needle was placed on the largely empty kitchen surface. He tried to ignore the presence of everyone watching, though there was an element of that in the average classroom. This new wand really did give confidence though. Staring down at the needle, he muttered the incantation and waved the wand over it. He concentrated hard as the magic flowed to effect the transfiguration.

Lo and behold, a match lay on the table. It wasn't quite perfect, but it was actually a proper match this time. Ron couldn't quite believe it, looking a bit dumbfoundedly at the match.

Everyone excitedly showered Ron with praise and congratulations. The twins clapped him on the back, Percy gave the match an A grade in his personal opinion, Harry gave him a hug, Hagrid beamed with pride, and his parents gave him a big hug too.

After a minute, the room calmed down back to normal. Ron held up the wand, inspecting it again. He started levitating the match about, continuing to test the feel of the wand.

Arthur and Molly pulled Hagrid aside whilst the boys all watched Ron try to pull off aerial stunts with the match, the others finding pencils and twigs and having a miniature mock-Quidditch match above the table. "Hagrid, you really have done our family a service." said Arthur, fairly seriously. "Is there anything we can do to repay you? We don't have much money to spare, but if there's anything else we can do…"

"Oh blimey, yer needn't worry 'bout tha'!" Hagrid flustered, taken a bit by surprise.

"It would be rude not to offer. You know how these things are." Molly said. The Weasleys weren't usually ones to stick to tradition, but they had never really reneged on it either; they were still purebloods. Albeit they played fast and loose with it.

"Well, in that case, maybe you could give me some cooking tips some time?" Hagrid asked her.

She looked puzzled. "Is that… all?"

"Oi'm not wantin' fer much; yer knowledge is pro'bly the mos' valuable thing to me!" he said.

She smiled at him, and patted him on the shoulder. "That will be no trouble at all… unlike these miscreants." The mock-Quidditch now looking more like a jousting session. "We'd better get out of your way, Hagrid dear. Get ready to go, boys!" she shouted over them. She turned back to Hagrid. "I'll send you an owl about popping over." she said in comparatively hushed tones. Arthur stepped forward to shake Hagrid's hand and convey again their thanks.

It was a hectic couple of minutes as they all tried to say their goodbyes, and the Weasley parents tried to herd their brood towards the fireplace without them finding something else to do first. Eventually, at last, the hut was quiet again. Both Hagrids breathed a deep sigh of relief…


	13. Chapter 13

In his personal laboratory, Professor Snape watched over his cauldrons, all simmering at different temperatures.

It was the end of the first day of term, and he finally had some peace and quiet to himself once more. He often mused to himself that the holidays were not nearly long enough.

One of the cauldrons was beginning to boil over, and he swiftly, but with the calm ease of a practiced hand, lidded it shut.

Thanks to Harry's parseltongue, and his subsequent success in creating a familiar out of Ashe, Snape had novel new materials to experiment with; shed skin, teeth, venom, excreta. And he was quite excited at what may be possible.

Ashwinders, when their constituents were used in potions, were capable of procuring several potent properties, especially a powerful capacity for healing. Naturally, snakes always yielded effective healing potions and salves of one sort or another. Ashwinders had always presented a peculiar frustration to those knowledgeable of this, as clearly the potential was there but thus far was unusable in a practical manner.

Freezing the eggs of ashwinders seemed to nullify much of the potency, though they were still useful. When fresh they resulted in highly volatile concoctions, which often had brilliant results for the potioneer skilled enough to bring such a potion to a stable state so it could be imbibed, but always with side effects as a result. Healing minor flesh wounds with it tended to result in extra limbs, for example, the sudden addition of which put huge strain in the patients' body. Actual ashwinder parts created incredible potions in terms of healing ability without the ridiculous side effects, with the capacity to at least begin to heal deep, long term maladies, similar to pure phoenix tears (which were, due to the nature of their origin, all but impossible to use in practice). However the effects were very short lived, much like ashwinders themselves, and so their use in practise is strictly limited to giving those with terminal issues a bit more time to sort their affairs out.

So Snape was testing what could be done with Ashe's various leavings. Of an ashwinder whose age could be measured in months rather than minutes, and was still clearly adolescent.

In his quieter moments of the past, Snape had experimented heavily with ashwinders and their various constituents. Fame as a potioneer was the obvious draw, cementing his legacy, but also something else drove him. Guilt was not the right word, not exactly, but something like remorse.

Some time after Voldemort's fall, St. Mungos had enlisted his aid in aftercare. It was a fascinating challenge with limited success; there were many patients that were incurable of various sicknesses or lasting injuries that the Death Eaters had inflicted on those they had fought. He'd made some minor improvements in the quality of life of a few of these victims, most notably his reluctant assistance in the invention of the wolfsbane potion (though in hindsight this reluctance was foolish as his own palpable fear of werewolves should have made him all the more eager to reduce the threat of ever being attacked again). And amid all this, Snape had been privy to many of the people and events that caused these problems in the first place. He could not but feel some small amount of culpability.

So since then he'd privately tried to create his own cures to his endless frustration. So ashwinder had been a big lead, but absolutely nothing seemed able to make the effects permanent.

But this new material… it held promise. Snape was excited at the prospect of this challenge; ashwinder potions were notoriously difficult to brew anyway, seldom trying something new like this. But if anyone could do it, he was confident he would be able. He leaned over the cauldrons to observe, and continued adding to his notes.

~~~

Harry was sitting around a work desk with his friends. They were taking it in turns trying to encourage one of the number of objects in front of them to dance. At the moment, Ron was thoroughly enjoying his waltzing garden fork.

Knowing that the first class back was likely something of an exercise in futility, Flitwick had set them this simple task and allowed them to have fun with it in group work, and otherwise wasn't too bothered that most of the students were also taking the opportunity to play catch up.

"...and that's what Muggle Christmas' are like." Hermione summed up.

Releasing the fork from his charm, Ron looked to Hermione. "Doesn't sound so different from ours. Dad'd find that really interesting, I'll have to tell him. And you heard about ours already, so what about you, Neville?" Neville had been rather quiet.

He was concentrating on the sunflower seedling; he had managed to get it to sway nicely, but it was beginning to overcompensate. It swung itself over onto its side and continued gyrating on the table.

Neville gave up the charm and righted the pot. "It's been… nice, really. It was just me and nan this year on the day, but she's… well, she's being a bit  _ weird _ , I guess."

The others all looked askance at him. "How so?" Hermione asked.

"She's being kind of nicer to me, or trying to at least." Neville furrowed his brow, thinking. "After a few days at home I told her about the wand from Hagrid; she got moody and told me I didn't need it and that my wand was perfectly fine." Harry and Hermione looked cross at that, though Ron just looked thoughtful. "But a few days ago she said I could choose whatever wand I felt more comfortable with, if I wished. And then she gave me a private note for your dad, Harry."

Harry relaxed, having been fearful that Neville would be unable to use his Christmas present (openly, anyway), but it did sound odd. Why would Augusta about face like that?

"My mum told me she was writing her a letter a while ago." Ron said. "I didn't know why, but I thought it was a bit weird."

"Sounds like grown up stuff to me. Mum and dad say it's rude to talk about them." said Hermione.

Neville snorted. "Sounds like something nan would say, too. But she doesn't usually talk to anyone else much, adults or not. Didn't know she even really knew your mum, Ron."

"Neither did !" Ron exclaimed.

"Nan even got me a plant for Christmas. I was really surprised." Neville said.

"And that's surprising because…?" asked Hermione.

Neville sighed. "She hasn't really cared before that I like plants as much as I do. She'd just get me stuff that's meant to help my studies, like remembralls, stuff like that. I'm pleased, though." he said.

Harry grasped his shoulder and grinned at him in response. "That's great, Neville! And you'll get a proper wand later too!"

~~~

Later came, and the gang headed straight from their last class (after a brief stop at the common room to collect the currently caged Scabbers), out across the grounds to Hagrid's hut.

To their surprise, they weren't the first students to arrive.

They burst in as usual, Harry leading the way, only to see Malfoy twist around in surprise.

Ever since the potions incident, Malfoy had more or less kept to himself, and Harry and his friends likewise. Ron had been tempted to needle him, but no one else wanted the bother of continuing to instigate things. Eventually Ron came to agree of his own accord.

"If'n yeh can jus' gi'me a moment, guys." said Hagrid, who went back to talking to Malfoy. A regal looking long eared owl sat on the table, though it looked rather under the weather, between them.

Harry lead his friends to the kitchen side where they all quietly got drinks and snacks.

As he checked under the owl's wings, Hagrid passed Malfoy a small bag and explained the medication timing necessary to him. Malfoy nodded affirmatively, occasionally glancing nervously at the four behind Hagrid.

As they waited, Ashe slithered along the shelves from the mantlepiece to the kitchen side, staying mostly hidden behind the various jars. " _ Who is that? _ " she asked.

" _ Malfoy. _ " Harry whispered back.

" _ That explains the tension between you all, then. _ " Ashe hissed in amusement.

" _ He does seem pretty nervous. _ " he whispered again.

She tasted the air quietly from where she lay.

Hagrid and Malfoy finished up their conversation. Malfoy thanked Hagrid politely, carefully taking his owl to his arm. "Thank you very much for the help, Mr. Hagrid."

"Ah, is jus' Hagrid, Draco, I'm not fussed. Take care, now!" said Hagrid. Draco nodded his head delicately, wide eyed as ever, and gave Harry a hurried glance before he turned and left. Hagrid shut the door behind him. It had been a bit odd, but students were often referred to Hagrid with pet or owl problems.

"Well, that was weird." said Ron. "Anyway, go on Neville, get your wand!"

Hagrid turned to them, mildly surprised at that. Neville produced a piece of parchment and gave it to Hagrid.

He gave it a quick read. It was signed by Augusta.

_ Dear Rubeus Hagrid, _

_ It has been a long time since anyone spoke to me so frankly. Too long, I fear. So I thank you for that. _

_ I have decided to allow Neville to choose whichever wand suits him best, whichever wand that may be. _

_ Yours sincerely, _

_ Augusta Longbottom _

That was pleasantly surprising. And Molly did say Augusta had contacted her. It was an interesting note that he hoped bode well for Neville in the future. He folded it up and skipped it away.

"Well, all seems t'be in order. Let's give yer new wand a go then, shall we?" Hagrid said. Neville couldn't help a small smile of excitement. "An' then you o'course, Hermione."

Remembering where Ron's had been, Hagrid somewhat more quickly retrieved the two wands for Neville and Hermione. He lead everyone outside into the slight gloom that was beginning to encroach on them. "Go on, then. Try some spells!" Hagrid encouraged.

"You first!" said Hermione cheerily to Neville. She was still comparing her wands to each other.

He stepped forward, nervously. But he gripped his new wand, made just for him, and felt it. It felt good. He decided to try a spell he'd been attempting to practice by himself with poor success. He went over to a dark corner by the hut, and held his wand ahead of him near the ground. He quietly but decisively said, " _ Lumos perdura _ ".

The end of Neville's wand glowed as he cast the spell, making the subtle motions it required. Then he stepped back and watched. The light remained in place, glowing slightly stronger than a good candle. Neville breathed a sigh from the effort, but turned around and smiled widely, looking at his wand fondly. He'd never managed to get that spell to last for this long with his previous wand.

Everyone ooh'd and aah'd over Neville's light, causing him to blush. But he beamed happily. Eventually, the light faded away. When he was older, he'd be able to make it last long enough to be useful for plant growing. Naturally, though, the sooner he could get good at it, the better.

Hermione came up to Neville. "You'll have to teach me that one, it would be perfect for some late night reading!"

Ron and Harry laughed. "You would think of books first seeing that, Hermione." said Ron.

Hermione frowned false petulance, before deciding it was her turn. She looked around before seeing a lile of stones near Hagrid's crop garden, and focused on the top most one. " _ Wingardium leviosa _ " she cast, waving her wand and direction the rock up into the air, before lowering it. She then repeated the action with her wand from Ollivander. She hmmed. Then she did it again.

"I'm really not sure, they feel different but my spells seem the same."

"I'll take that as a compliment that my wand's as good as one of Ollivander's!" Hagrid chuckled. "A spare wand never 'urts, mind. So you just hang on to that."

Hermione smiled up at him, putting her wands away. Hagrid ushered everyone back inside.

"So are you going to tell us what they're made of yet?" asked Harry as they all bustled through the doorway together. The others joined in demanding.

"Alroight, alroight! Hold yer horses! You really are a nosy lot…" he whipped up some warm cocoa quickly with the aid of magic, sending it to the table where the students had sat themselves down. Ashe appeared and quickly enveloped Harry's mug, causing giggles to go round the table. She hissed petulantly at them.

"Ah, an' thank yeh fer bringing Scabbers like I asked, Ron. Why's he caged, though?" asked Hagrid.

"He's been wandering off a lot more than usual lately, the pet shop lady said he had 'wanderlust' and should keep him caged for a while 'til he gets over it." Ron explained.

Hagrid wasn't sure he'd agree with this apparent treatment, but then, he wasn't familiar with Scabbers himself. And if he was prone to wander off, having him already caged was helpful.

"Ta, Ron. I'll bring him back up in the mornin'." Hagrid placed the cage on the kitchen counter. "Now, it's gettin' on a bit, you lot best get back up to the school."

He saw them all off, and sat down for a moment of respite before Newt inevitably showed up, as he was due to. It was half an hour before Hagrid heard the loud rapping at the door. Hagrid let him in, Newt first of all propping his broom by the door.

"Hullo, Hagrid!" Newt declared, giving him a great hug and a clap on the back. "It's been far too long, my good fellow! And hello Fang!" He bent down to give Fang lots of attention and fuss, which Fang gleefully reciprocated.

"Been busy then, I take it?" asked Hagrid.

"Yes, yes, very much so! A stiff drink would be much appreciated." Newt replied, taking a pew at the table.

Hagrid sat down, dumping two tankards and a pitcher on the table. "Go on then, spill." he said, pouring out the first portions.

Newt took his tankard with a meaningful nod to Hagrid, and downed most of it. "Ah, that's better."

"Been very busy dealing with a very large and ill-managed collection of dangerous creatures. You know how it is, some fool with more black money than sense just  _ has  _ to show it off by keeping creatures that are quintuple-X rated for a bloody good reason. Inevitably one of them breaks out or is let out and kills the guy, though this time there wasn't any collateral, thankfully. This guy had somehow managed to build up a very large collection and it's taken us this long to get them all moved and settled in with the rest of my menagerie safely. You'll have to check the new arrivals out soon!" Newt finished explaining. "Ah, while I'm thinking about it, one of the manticores has been shedding, so here you are." He passed a small, solid box across the table, which was received gratefully. "How's that going, by the way? You said you made Harry one, at least."

"An' I jus' gave three more to his friends. They all seem good matches too!" Hagrid said excitedly. "Not much overlap with Ollivanders' cores either. It feels good to offer summat diff'rent, at least…"

Newt leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "I'm still waiting for mine."

Chuckling, Hagrid told him that that was his own fault for being so busy. Newt acquiesced.

"On a slightly different note, are you familiar with the Muggle concept of public zoological institutions?" Newt asked, leaning in conspiratorially.

Hagrid scratched his head, thinking. "D'yer mean a zoo?"

Newt nodded the affirmative. "I've been thinking of the idea for my menagerie for some time now. I and my assistants have become well accustomed now on to how to handle the beasts, as well as housing them securely and safely."

"So yer thinkin' yer might make it public like a Muggle zoo?" Hagrid asked, excitedly. "Zoos are always good, but a magical one… but it's too dangerous, innit?"

"That's been a big hurdle for us. I see how the Muggles do it, but no fence or ditch will stop the manticore's breath or a dragon's flame. But we've been working with goblins on these problems a lot."

"Goblins?"

"Yes, indeed. They have different ways of building and enchanting materials that could prove highly effective. We're trialling some enclosures now with magically reinforced glass that only lets through light in one direction, too! I can get a good close look at our unicorns without them dashing for the other end of the enclosure!" Newt exclaimed, before calming down. "It's still some years away, but when it's ready, I'd be thrilled if you'd join us as an animal manager!"

Hagrid smiled sadly. "Aw, yeh know I'd love ter, Newt, but…"

"Harry?" Newt cut him off. "Obviously the lad is why you're not working for me already! But he's eleven now, Hagrid. He'll be of age in seven years, so I was thinking that when that time comes, maybe…?"

Hagrid sat and thought about it. Harry wouldn't live here forever, he'd want his own space. Even before then, even as it was now he hardly needed Hagrid there 24/7. Either way, Hagrid's smile grew as he thought about it. It seemed really plausible. Then he thought of something else, as he smiled more reassuringly at Newt.

"...an' Oi'll even have more access to wand materials, won't I?" he grinned cheekily.

"Ah - yes!" Newt clapped his hands, pointing at Hagrid. "An in house wandmaker at the Scamander Magizoological Institute, using our very own creatures for his wands!"

"Yeh'd want me ter? That sounds jus' fantastic. I can scarcely wait already!" said Hagrid.

"It'll be a while coming, but we have plenty of time. Can't wait to have you on board, Hagrid." Newt stuck a hand out across the table.

Hagrid took it and gave Newt a firm handshake of agreement in return. A mild pop of magic was felt as their hands came together, like static, leaving a foggy feeling around the table. Things had been set in motion.

"You'll have to come give us your opinion on some of our plans." said Newt. "Anyway, I believe you had some things to show me…?"

Hagrid's eyes widened, suddenly remembering the initial reason behind Newt's visit. "Ashe!" he called out. "C'm'ere, Newt here is safe as anythin'."

The ashwinder extricated herself from her hiding spot on the mantlepiece, and cautiously made her way across the floor, and up Hagrid's legs until she made it to the table top. He summoned a salamander tail from a jar to keep her occupied.

With a bare minimum of restraint, Newt leaned forward, fascinated a wide eyed. Ashe flicked her tongue at him, giving him a good look, before deciding he was just a peculiar eccentric and wrapped her jaws around the tail given to her.

"Quite extraordinary…" Newt absentmindedly muttered to himself, as he produced a heavy magnifying lens and squinted through it. "Shame Harry's not about, though."

Hagrid slapped his head for not having thought of it.

"No matter, Hagrid. I should like to come and observe some more soon in the future anyway."

Nonetheless, Hagrid was a bit frustrated with himself for forgetting something so obvious. "Fascinating, though, ain't she? Not like a, uh,  _ normal _ ashwinder."

Newt was gently lifting her tail with his wand to inspect her belly scales. Ashe polished off the salamander tail with a bit of a bemused expression, as she turned round to Newt in the eye. She swallowed down the tail and rolled over. Newt looked thrilled, and brought down the magnifier again.

"Definitely intelligent. Clearly a familiar as you say…" He tickled her under the chin as an appreciative gesture, which was positively received. "It's hard to describe but she looks much more firm and solid than the usual ashwinder. And she emits a deep heat…" said Newt to no one in particular; obviously Hagrid would have noticed these things.

Newt continued to observe and look over Ashe for a time. "You said you kept a journal of everything that's happened?"

"Oh, yes! Far as I know I'm the first to hatch an ashwinder egg, so was important ter document it all." said Hagrid.

Standing up, quite suddenly, Newt strode to the fireplace and looked around it. "I should like to charm a copy. And you had the cauldron here?" He observed, inspecting the brick base.

Hagrid joined him. "Uh huh. Constantly having ter chuck tinder in it, and had ter keep charmin' the place so we didn't bake like we were in an oven!" He said. "Oi've hatched mundane snake eggs before, enough ter tell when conditions falter, the eggs sorta dimple a little bit? It did tha' whenever the fire started to die down, until I knew how hot it really needed ter be at minimum."

Newt stroked his short beard thoughtfully. He twisted round to look back at Ashe, eyes narrowing. He hmmed.

"Hm?" Hagrid asked.

"Just thinking on a theory… I shall have to investigate further. Anyway!" Newt proclaimed, "I believe there was another creature I wished to inspect? Scabby the rat, wasn't it?"

Hagrid gestured to Ashe to move aside as he retrieved the cage containing Scabbers, who apparently had fallen asleep. " _ Scabbers _ . 'Ere we are, then. Ron says he's had a bit of wanderlust so the pet shop said cage 'im fer a bit. Between you an' me-" Hagrid whispered conspiratorially, "-Oi think 'e might jus' be nearin' the end. But then, he doesn't look aged per sé…" he trailed off, looking at the rat. "Oi dunno. Is a weird one, this, simple though it seems."

Newt came over to have a closer look. He looked closely at Scabbers, and tweaked the cage, as if testing how secure it was. He slowly drew his wand, and wordlessly threw a  _ Stupefy _ at the unsuspecting Scabbers, who flopped over within the cage.

Hagrid started "Hey, wha!-"

"Now, Hagrid," Newt cut him off, softly but with an edge of seriousness to it, "I have my suspicions about this apparent rat here. I have had ever since you brought up the subject of his age. I think it is possible that he may not be a rat at all. He may be an animagus, Hagrid."

Hagrid looked down at the motionless Scabbers, still somewhat surprised by Newt's sudden action. "Wha' on earth makes yer think  _ that? _ Surely he coul' jus' be an old rat somehow?"

"I do hope so, Hagrid. It's just… I've found two before now, in different countries. Both were reports that came across my desk of unusually long lived creatures that otherwise appeared mundane. Both, obviously hiding the way they were due to an  _ unsavoury _ past." Newt clarified. "And I did not want to potentially give this one the chance or motive to escape, hence why this is the first you are hearing of it."

Hagrid drew a deep breathe as Newt carefully removed the rat from the cage. Newt indicated to him to get Fang out the way, so Hagrid shut him in his bedroom for the moment, then made sure all the doors and windows were secure as Newt told him to, as well as other potential escape avenues, both man- and rat-sized, just in case.

"I am sorry for the secrecy, Hagrid." Newt lamented, "It's just that these people tend to be slippery, obviously, especially when children are at risk."

Hagrid waved it off with a shake of his head. "Not at all, Newt, Oi understand. Jus' surprised, is all."

Newt nodded his affirmation, with a pleased look. He placed Scabbers delicately in the centre of the room, keeping his wand trained on him. "Have your wand out, and be ready. The stunner will wear off when I jinx him out of the animage form, assuming he is one."

Training his wand on the rat, Newt raised his left hand and counted down 3, 2, 1-

" _ Revelius animagi! _ " Newt shouted, jabbing his wand forth as a jolt blueish-white magic shot forward. Within the moment the rat was gone, and a short, slightly portly man lay before them. He was shabbily dressed in dark brown, threadbare clothing. The man scrabbled about in confusion before righting himself on his knees, both Hagrid and Newt training their wands at him. Hagrid's face was blank with confusion, whilst Newt glowered darkly. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"B- b- wha-" the man stammered, obviously taken completely by surprise, his wild eyes shifting uneasily over the room. In a desperate move, the man leapt to his feet with surprising speed, attempting to bolt for the nearest window. Newt, however, was quick on his feet and smashed his face with a balled fist.

"Aaiiiirgrh!" his victim shrieked, reeling back as he clenched his bloodied nose. Hagrid was quick to move forwards and grab hold of him by the collar with his free hand. The man writhed in vain to escape, even trying to reach his head down to bite Hagrid's hand, but Hagrid shook him back. Then Hagrid heard Newt cast  _ Incarcerous _ from behind him, ropes coiling about the man and binding him tightly. Hagrid lay the main down on the floor, as Newt came to his side and looked downward.

"Well, I gave him his chance to explain himself, and as expected, he had no desire at all to do so. He's the aurors' problem now." Newt said matter of factly.

Hagrid looked down at their captive. This all felt so surreal. But Newt was right, he had had his chance. Knowing this man was in the school all this time…

"I reckon'd Dumbledore would want ter see first, actually." Hagrid said.

"He has plenty of authority doesn't he? He'll know what to do. And I'm sure he'll want to know about a secret man hiding in his school, certainly." said Newt.

"Tha's what I was thinkin'" said Hagrid, as he stepped quickly to the fireplace, throwing in floo for the Headmasters' office. He thrust his head in, looking about and spotting the Headmaster attending to Fawkes.

"Perfesser Dumbledore! Come 'ere, quick!" Hagrid tried to say calmly, yet hurriedly. It didn't quite come out as intended, though.

Dumbledore whisked round and strode wordlessly to his fireplace, with a cursory look at Hagrid which he took to mean 'get out of the way'.

Backing up out of the fire, Dumbledore smoothly swept into the space vacated by Hagrid, alert and wand at the ready. He scanned the room, finding the obvious cause of the commotion. He smiled fondly.

"It is good to see you, Newt." Dumbledore said genially, calm as always even in the face of absurdity.

"Likewise, Albus, though I wish it were under better circumstances " said Newt, though keeping his eyes fixed on their captive, whom's attempts to escape were renewed with extra vigor upon Dumbledore's entry.

"This bloke 'ere was the Weasleys' pet rat Scabbers for years!" Hagrid declared, also returning his attention to the strange man.

Dumbledore's eyes rose in surprise slightly, as he came forward to bend down and look at the man. "You might as well tell us who are you and why." he spoke calmly, though hidden beneath the peaceful veneer the two bystanders could tell that Dumbledore was already furious, knowing his students had been at risk. Dumbledore received no response other than more efforts to extricate himself from his bonds, his eyes beginning to roll in a blind panic.

Sighing, Dumbledore casually  _ stupefied _ him with his free hand, before levitating him upwards to sit on one of Hagrid's free chairs. The eyes remained open, but glazed over. Newt recast the incarcerous to bind the man to the chair. The Headmaster gave him a nod of acknowledgement, ennervating the man but then petrifying him in place instead. Then he took hold of the man's chin and stared deeply into the manic looking eyes.

It was rare for Dumbledore to ever be perturbed by anything, so it was to the surprise of the onlookers that Dumbledore's face dropped almost immediately after he began his legilimency. That was followed by a mixture of fury and disappointment as Dumbledore swept through what was immediately relevant. A few minutes later, Dumbledore stood up, a tired look on his face.

"I find I must fetch the Minister. If you two would watch him a moment, I'll be back shortly." he said, as he went over to the fireplace. He cast  _ muffliato _ as he stated his destination (obviously Cornelius Fudge's office) and the password necessary.

The two waited in tense silence for a few minutes before Dumbledore came back through, followed by the Minister himself. The two waiting men inclined their heads to him with a "How d'you do."

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Or is it evening?" the Minister said, checking his pocket watch.

Dumbledore stepped forward. "I already briefed the Minister of the current situation, but feel I only need to tell you this man's identity before you are up to speed: Peter Pettigrew."

It took a short moment for things to catch up in his mind, but nonetheless that hit Hagrid like a stone. "Yer  _ wha? _ Pettigrew? But 'e's dead, they-" Hagrid suddenly remembered noticing the missing toe on the rat, and swivelled to look at Peter, seeing the same digit decidedly absent. Newt stood by in stunned silence, following where Hagrid was looking and also connecting the dots.

With sudden realisation, Hagrid began "Wait, that means Black-"

"Quite." stayed Dumbledore simply. "Which is why I thought this was a matter of some degree of urgency. If you two are happy to be witnesses for the necessary legalities…?" He asked them. Both men nodded vigorously.

"Very good. If we could borrow your pensieve, Hagrid, and then any moment Minerva and Severus should be here to watch Peter for us…"

Right on cue, a quick, sharp rap sounded at the door as Professor McGonagall let herself in, followed swiftly be Professor Snape. It was a good thing Hagrid had made his hut large for himself, so that it wasn't too overcrowded with the sudden influx of wizards.

Both teachers inclined their heads to those stood about. "Minister. Albus. We evidently both received your patronus, but what… who is that?" Asked Minerva, suddenly noticing Peter immobile in the chair.

Severus's head whipped round as he stalked across the room to look at him. "I know you… !" Suddenly the acknowledgement his him. "P- is that Peter fu-!"

"Why  _ yes _ , Severus, that is indeed the erstwhile Peter F. Pettigrew." Dumbledore smoothly interrupted him. Severus scowled at being interrupted so, but quickly removed it when remembering the present company. Pettigrew, alive all this time? Which means… Black didn't kill him. Hm. This should prove interesting, though the distinct pending possibility that Black was not, in fact, the blood thirsty murderer he'd always known him to be was somehow frustrating.

Minerva gasped. "How is this possible?" She asked. 

"If I may?" Newt spoke. "Hagrid informed me of a very long lived rat belonging to the Weasley family, by the name of Scabbers. I had my suspicions of an errant animagus as I have found this before. And, well, here we are." Newt gestured at their prisoner.

Minerva looked utterly crestfallen. "An animagus? And I never noticed? How…"

The Headmaster stepped up to her and put a hand on her shoulder. "And neither did anyone else, Minerva. Do not bear this upon yourself. Now-" he said, "I need you and Severus to watch Peter and stand guard, whilst the rest of us inspect the memories of his past deeds, so that we may swiftly get poor Sirius exonerated."

Minerva gasped, while Severus scowled. Dumbledore gave him a knowing look, as he went to Peter and began threading the memories he needed from his mind, placing them into the pensieve on the table Hagrid had provided. Hagrid, Newt and Cornelius stood by patiently.

"Don't fret," the Minister said, possibly misinterpreting Severus' scowl, "I, we, intend to get this matter resolved as quickly as is practicable, and get your friend freed!" He declared proudly.

Deciding discretion was the better part of valour, Severus made sure to school his features into total stillness and neutrality. When the Minister turned back around, Minerva smirked at him knowingly. Severus continued his struggle against a rational response.

"Ah, here we are then." Dumbledore said, finishing his preparation of the pensieve. "Everyone, wands together, please." All six wizards crossed their wands between them. A fizz of magic could be felt between them.

"I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, acting as the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, do hereby call together Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, Newton Scamander, Magizoologist, and Rubeus Hagrid, Groundskeeper of Hogwarts, so that we may formally witness the acts and deeds of Peter Pettigrew, in order so that the Chief Warlock and the Minister for Magic may fairly judge them for crimes committed against the laws of the Ministry of Magic. And so also do we intend to witness the acts and deeds of Sirius Black by proxy of Peter Pettigrew, so as to pass the same fair judgement upon them. We swear this oath that our judgement be fair, true and according to the laws of the Ministry of Magic. So say we, additionally witnessed in our oath by Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration Professor of Hogwarts, and by Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts. So say we." Dumbledore commanded heavily, the subtle fizz between the wands having grown slightly during the oath.

"Aye." rang a chorus of agreement by the other participants. Their wands were all then swiftly swished down at their owners' sides, the fizzing vanishing with it. Hagrid shivered; those formalities often left him feeling a bit eery. There was an old magic in it.

Cornelius breathed a deep sigh. "I remember, back when I first forayed into politics, that we always had to have an explanation session before all of our hearings. And now I can't remember the last time someone needed it. Blasted war…" The others commiserated, shaking their heads.

"With that out of the way, shall we proceed, gentlemen?" said Albus, guiding the four of them to the pensieve. Minerva and Severus stood back, diverting their attention to Pettigrew. With a quick glance at one another, the four men bent their heads down into the swirling mist of the pensieve.

Now standing in misty emptiness, the surroundings of the time now began to materialise around them.

"I did not fully examine all these memories, but I saw enough to understand what occurred. So I have chosen what was evidently important, according to Peter's own mind, to show us in turn." Dumbledore explained, as they waited for the scene to coalesce.

Hagrid recognised it as Grimmauld Place, the London home Sirius had inherited (much to Sirius' displeasure) from his deceased family, with the sole exception of Sirius himself. Nonetheless, it had proved a useful hideaway for Sirius on the odd occasion when he wasn't staying with the Potters or Lupin. Only the kitchen was safe to relax in.

Peter and Sirius were sat alone at a black iron table with a glass top.

_ "...and that's the plan I came up with. You do understand it, yes?" Sirius asked Peter. _

_ "Could you maybe slow down? I got a bit lost." Peter replied. _

_ Sighing in frustration, Sirius stood up and paced the room, flicking his attention between the floor in front of him and Peter. "James and Lily need a Fidelius charm to keep them safe, which means they need a secret keeper. Everyone has agreed I am the best bet; Dumbledore, Moody, Kingsley… I can duel well enough and defend myself, and know how to hide if I have to." Sirius winked knowingly at Peter as he said this. "Ah yes, old Padfoot is certainly able to keep quiet." _

_ Peter crossed his arms and leant back in his chair. "So what'd'you need me for?" _

_ "Because, Peter, everyone  _ knows  _ I am the obvious choice to be secret keeper. Don't you see? I can be as willing and able to keep quiet as Dumbledore himself, but Voldemort-" At this Peter flinched slightly. Sirius rolled his eyes. "-has ways of finding the secret out from me anyway. If I'm ever captured, well, James, Lily and Harry are dead. And I still want to take the fight to the Death Eaters, which additionally puts me at risk. See the problem?" Peter nodded slowly, taking this in. _

_ Striding forwards to the table, Sirius clamped his hands down. "This is where I need  _ you _ , Peter. This is where I need  _ Wormtail. _ You're already good at hiding, that's what you have been doing, isn't it? We don't even know where you are half the time!" _

_ Peter decided not to mention that at those times he was in the home of one of the Death Eaters, learning about them and what He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wanted, and could offer in return. _

_ "...Wormtail especially is good at hiding away, better than Padfoot, right?" _

_ Peter could see where Sirius was going with this. "B-but I don't want to be a secret keeper! Then Y-You-Know-Who will be after  _ me! _ " Peter cried. He wanted safety, at almost any cost, but he didn't want to get involved like this- _

_ "Not if he doesn't  _ know _ that you are." said Sirius. "We tell everyone it's still me, no one knows it's you, not Moody, not Remus, not even Dumbledore. The only people who have to know will be us and the Potters." _

_ Sitting quietly, Peter mulled it over. He was terrified. This war, the deaths, the changes in the people around him, he could hardly cope. The only reason he hadn't been killed already was that he had pleaded to the Death Eaters who'd caught him, that he wasn't their enemy, he might want to join them, even, and could prove useful. They had probably seen through him, but all the same, if You-Know-Who valued anything more than the death of his enemies, it was resources against even more them. A turncoat… _

_ He had tried several times to convince his friends to leave the country, or go into hiding suddenly without telling anyone, but they were still too keen to stand up to the Dark Lord. And his loyalty to them, his unwillingness to abandon them, had resulted in his own mortality being cut close. It was going to come down to a point; him or them? _

_ And they'd had their chance already, and therefore had potentially cost him his life. _

_ "Well? What do you think, then?" said Sirius. Said  _ Black. _ "We planned it out; they open the floo temporarily, you floo in. I apparate nearby and walk in. You do the ritual, floo away, and I walk out the house. Anyone watching will think it must be me. I'll give those death eaters the run around for you." Too little, too late, thought Peter. "So, will you do it? For them? For  _ me? _ To help  _ me  _ keep them safe." _

_ "...alright." said Peter, shakily, his resolve tightening. "Alright, Padfoot. I'll be the secret keeper." _

_ A huge grin broke out on Sirius' face, as he bounded forward to grab Peter in an embrace. "Thank you, Peter… Wormtail. I just need to keep them safe. My godson, who's barely yet alive…" _

_ "You're very attached already." Peter observed. "He's not  _ your _ son, Padfoot." _

_ "May as well be. I'm not likely to marry any time soon, am I?" _

_ "You, the womaniser? You could easily find a woman, Padfoot." _

_ "But that's just the problem, isn't it?" remarked Sirius. "I managed to alienate every girl in Hogwarts, and anyone I didn't know at Hogwarts probably heard about me. No, Wormtail, I don't think I'll have much luck at all…" _

_ You would if you'd left for America like I'd suggested, thought Peter, bitterly… _

The memory began to fade. "The Fidelius ritual is the next memory to come." Dumbledore said, as the scene shifted.

They all watched as Peter entered the intact version of the Potters' home. There wasn't a great deal of interesting discussion here, as everyone was highly stressed and putting all their effort into the charm rather than making time for chit chat. Nonetheless, knowing this was the last time Peter saw them was hard to watch, but this was necessary in order to validate the assumption that Peter  _ had _ actually been the secret keeper. Here was the proof of Peter's betrayal.

Hagrid's eyes welled up, as his fists were clenched with rage. The emotional build up from watching Peter's far too casual chat with Sirius, and now this,  _ knowing _ that he had been the traitor all along was difficult to handle. He looked to the side and saw the stony face of Newt, the saddened one of Cornelius, and the almost imperceptible facade of Dumbledore, but for the hint of self hatred Hagrid knew he could see. That was why Hagrid always sung his praises to everyone he could; he knew what Dumbledore felt sometimes. Too much pressure and responsibility on one man, for whom nothing was ever good enough when it came to himself.

"'S'not your fault." Hagrid said simply. Dumbledore tilted his head imperceptibly in a small measure of thanks, closing his eyes briefly as this memory also began to fade away.

The next one followed Peter along the dark corridors of a mansion at night. Cornelius let out a soft gasp. "The Malfoy's…" he uttered quietly. Peter scurried along, nervous looking, passing several Death Eaters who gave him curt, silent nods, including Severus last of all, before he reached a large set of double doors leading to the dining room…

_ Here he was, Peter thought. He had committed to his choice now. He knocked half-heartedly at the door, nerves getting the better of him. He was expected; few went to meet him without prior invitation. _

_ A cruel chuckle signalled that his apprehension had been noted. "Enter." it called, with a slight mocking tone to it. _

_ Before Peter could take the handle, said handle turned by itself, and the door opened to reveal He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, or more properly now to Peter the Dark Lord, sat languorously at the head of the dining table, alone. An array of expensive delectables lay before him, though they looked untouched. _

Cornelius couldn't help but recoil slightly, even knowing this was just a memory. Hagrid, too, twitched at the sight of him. He just looked so  _ wrong _ . Newt grimaced. Only Dumbledore seemed completely unfazed.

_ Peter felt the eyes of the Dark Lord bear into him, as Peter fumbled, uncertain whether to approach first or prostrate himself where he was stood. _

_ "Come now, Peter, there is no need to fear me so. Or should that be… Wormtail?" _

_ Peter froze up, his heart in his mouth instantly. _

_ "Wormtail… I rather like it." the Dark Lord said, airily. "Mind if I call you that?" the Dark Lord 'asked', a sly grin sliding up his face. _

_ Eyes wide, Peter - Wormtail - tottered up towards the Dark Lord. He got just past halfway round the table when a casual wave from the Dark Lord stopped him. Wormtail kneeled down, shakily. _

_ "Your fear is well placed - my reputation evidently precedes me." The Dark Lord rose from his seat, sedately stepping over to Wormtail, head still inclined forward. "But still, you have sought me out of your own volition. You wish to aid me; I would not have it known that the Dark Lord is not merciful to those who kneel before him." His voice hung on the air a moment, Wormtail scarcely daring to breathe, but trying to calm down nonetheless, the loud pulse in his ears beginning to slow. _

_ The Dark Lord bid him to rise, and he did so. Silently, he gestured for him to present forth his left arm. Wormtail knew what was coming, and nervously rose forward his upturned arm. _

_ The Dark Lord gazing into his eyes a moment more, Wormtail fought. the urge to look away in fear of the unnatural colour. As he thought this, the Dark Lord grinned in amusement, before he began moving his wand (Wormtail hadn't even noticed he had drawn it) in an unusual, fluid motion, before it was suddenly thrust down into his arm. Wormtail shrieked in pain as the curse seeped into his flesh, but knew he musn't flinch away,  _ felt _ that he couldn't anyway. _

_ Then it was done, and he was released. Wormtail staggered back, looking down at the twisting mark left behind. _

_ The Dark Lord looked down at him loftily as he looked back up, a mirthless smile etched into his face. _

_ "Now that your loyalty to me is assured, I believe you came to me with a particular...gift?" he asked. _

_ "The Potter's may be found at the Potter cottage, in Godric’s Hollow." Wormtail blurted out. _

_ The Dark Lord grinned evilly, fingering his wand as the location became known to him. He strode away to the doors Wormtail had entered through. _

_ "Come, Wormtail, my loyal servant. I desire that you to bear witness…" spoke the Dark Lord, as Wormtail scrabbled to catch up. Wormtail thought he heard a voice interrupt the Dark Lord the moment he passed the doors… _

The memory cut off then. Hagrid thought he recognised who's that voice had been. He stayed quiet. He was still a bit shaken, anyway. He'd caught glimpses of You-Know-Who during the war, but that was all. This was… the man was not right. Hagrid wasn't even sure how much of a man he could be said to be. The man was seeping with dark magic.

As always, Newt stood resolute. Dumbledore had placed a reaffirming hand on Cornelius' shoulder, Hagrid noted. Cornelius was not known for being an especially strong character in the face of adversity; he was a post-war Minister for a reason. And he was good at it.

The last memory was beginning. A dark, autumn evening in a Muggle street appeared before them. Peter was hiding in an alley. Sirius was stalking along it, unknowing of his hiding behind a dumpster. 

_ Wormtail had witnessed  _ something  _ happen in the upstairs room of the cottage. Needless to say, the unexpected had happened, and the Dark Lord had ceased to be. A baby could still be heard crying, however. Had a burst of accidental magic destroyed his master? _

_ A quick search had revealed no body, though his wand was left behind. Wormtail knew his master would be wanting for it, and also knew of his boasts that he had triumphed over death itself. This was his only hope now; that the Dark Lord would soon return. _

_ He had had no more time to linger, however, as Black quickly appeared at the scene. Wormtail fled instantly by apparition, and Black had pursued him. _

_ Such as it was that Wormtail was now trying to hide in a muggle area, trying to get away from his dogged pursuer. _

_ "Where are you!?" Black shrieked into the darkness. "I know you're here…" He jabbed his wand, shredding a rubbish bag into bits. _

_ He sobbed his way along, doing double takes at every shifting shadow. _

_ "Why!?" he yelled. _

_ "I had to!" Wormtail couldn't help himself, knowing it would echo anyway. "I belong to Him now, I had no choice!" _

_ Black snarled, an utterly inhuman sound. "There's  _ always  _ a choice, Peter." _

_ "It was me or them!" _

_ "Then it should have been _ YOU! _ " _

_ Purely by instinct, Wormtail dashed forward out into the street just in time as the dumpster he'd been hiding behind was turned into shrapnel. He was caught by a flying shard and fell, quickly turning and righting himself as Black stalked his way out into the street. Some muggle lights had come on in the nearby dwellings, having heard the explosion. _

_ Desperately, Wormtail grabbed a sharp piece of metal as he stood up, gripping it tightly in his hand, expecting Black to be upon him at any moment. _

_ Instead, he heard a stern  _ Expelliarmus  _ from Black, and his wand skittered away. Foolish, thought Wormtail to himself. _

_ He got up as Black stopped some feet away, holding him at wand point. Black had no words left, merely a tear-streaked grimace of cold fury. Noticing some muggles beginning to fill the street, though, Black tucked his wand away, keeping his hand on it in his pocket. He continued to glare at Wormtail. _

_ Wormtail was out of options, and he knew it. He simply stood there, as the occasional cry from the distant muggles went ignored. A few came running over. _

_ Then he remembered… he still had his master's wand. Black, in his sorrow, was beginning to drop his guard slightly. Wormtail would have a chance to beat him to the first spell. _

_ It also occurred to him that he needed an alibi, though, even if he could escape, or else he'd be hunted down as a top priority. An idea hit him. A muggle grabbing his shoulder in concern spurred him into action. _

_ "Sirius Black!" Wormtail cried loudly, pointing a finger at Black, "How could you betray your friends, the Potters?" _

_ In Black's confusion at the accusation, Wormtail smartly pulled the backup wand out and hurled a blasting hex near Black's feet. However, it went awry due to the uncooperative nature of the wand. It blasted an excessive crater into the ground, sending rubble, wizards and muggles alike flying. _

_ Dazed, lying on the curb, Wormtail saw that Black had been harder hit, but was moaning. He was still alive. _

_ Quickly, he sliced off a finger with the piece of dumpster shrapnel he'd somehow managed to hold on to, dropping it to the ground, before turning into the rat and fleeing the scene amidst the confusion, knowing Black was disoriented by the blast, unable to pursue. Apparating away was also how Black had tailed him in the first place, so avoiding that meant there was no trail showing he was even alive. He dashed away into the night, not turning back at the sounds of the aurors finally arriving on the scene, or Black's sobs that could be heard, too concussed to think straight or answer appropriately the angry aurors' questioning… _

The memory faded away, and the four men raised their heads from the fog of the pensieve. The two professors standing by were silent at the dark looks on their faces. Dumbledore breathed heavily, with a sorrowful look in Peter's direction.

Peter had had them all for fools.

"I think I speak for all of us when I declare that Mr. Pettigrew is guilty of murder, treason, being an illegal animagus, and… breaking the statute of secrecy?" Newt said.

"Hear, hear." stated Cornelius. "Possibly more, but that is already enough for an easy lifetime in Azkaban. We can hash out the details later. For now, I say we get him in there, and Mr. Black out."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "If we may use your floo, Hagrid?" He crossed the room to the fireplace and measured out the appropriate amount of floo powder, before throwing it in. He inclined his head to Ashe as he returned the floo bowl to the mantlepiece. Ashe returned it in kind. "You first, Hagrid. Then we'll pass Peter through to you."

"Aye, sir." Hagrid strode straight almost into the fire, before a thought occurred to him. He turned his head round. "Minerva, could you let Harry know what's happening? Give 'im a chance to let it sink in afore the Prophet tomorrer. Peter's guilty, Black is innocent, basically."

Severus once again rose his eyebrows in surprise at Black’s innocence. "Not a bad idea, Hagrid. If I may suggest also, that the Weasleys be informed that their family pet is a death eater?" He drawled in mild amusement. The idea was amusing to Severus, even if the reality was maybe less so. "Maybe we should have Scamander check Mrs. Norris, also?"

Minerva aimed a playful slap at his arm. Trust Severus of all people to be the one to try to lighten the mood. Then she returned to the appropriate sternness. "All joking aside, I shall head to Gryffindor tower as soon as you all have left-"

"-and I shall take night patrol, Headmaster." said Severus.

"Thank you, both." said Dumbledore, as Hagrid opened the bedroom door, instructing Fang to stay. Then he returned and went straight into the floo.

The three remaining wizards detached Peter from the chair, rebound him and passed him into the fire, before all following each other through to the Ministry. The fire burned red again.

Minerva went for the door, but Severus went to the fireplace. "Hagrid will not mind; I think continuing to ensure school security as quickly as possible is prudent at the moment."

"Quite right, Severus." Minerva agreed. As Severus threw in the powder for them both, Minerva stated the Headmaster's office, the most central point for them both, and they both breezed into the fire, both thinking that this would be a long night indeed.


	14. Chapter 14

The late morning sun caught the dust in the air in Hagrid's hut, as beams shone in the windows. It had a warming touch on Harry's back as he thoughtfully chewed on a piece of fried, granary bread. Fang lay quietly on the floor, the occasional sigh reminding Harry of his presence. Ashe was coiled in his lap, just being a quiet, reassuring presence.

Last night had been… unusual.

His head of house had quietly retrieved both he and all the Weasley brothers in the school from the common room, before taking them to her office and explaining what she knew of what had happened. It had come as quite a shock, to say the least.

Ron and all his brothers were rather shaken at now knowing they had been sharing their breakfasts and beds with a mass murderer. Thankfully, they had their parents already there for them (not that they were in a much better state), the Professor having floo'd them into the school and explained things to them before their sons were pulled in.

They had elected to have at least the next school day off, as had Arthur from work, in order to spend the day together and recover from the emotional toll it took on them.

Harry had also gotten the day off, and had been allowed to go home under the proviso he stay safe inside, acting headmistress McGonagall ensuring the doors and windows were securely locked by herself.

He was not as upset as the Weasleys had been; Scabbers had not been his childhood pet, after all, though the revelation was still rather a shock to him. But he still had a lot to process.

He had a godfather. He had  _ family _ , of a sort, that he had never met.

Dad had never wanted to talk about him much. Nor did he talk much about the muggle motor bike that lay under a dust-covered sheet at the back of the shed. Not that his dad had ever gotten rid of it, either. Dad had had… odd feelings, it seemed. Guess it wasn't as simple as pretending all the good times and friendship had never happened. That's what Harry thought  _ he'd _ do if something similar ever happened to him, but then, imagination and reality were two different things.

But it was all moot now. Sirius Black, his evil, traitorous godfather, was not that at all. He was simply his godfather.

Harry wondered if he'd recognise him; he had managed to glean that he had known Sirius as a baby, Sirius being very fond of him.

He had little idea what Sirius looked like other than obvious things like hair colour - his scar stung briefly, distracting him - where was he? Black. Sirius, his godfather.

Harry promptly got up and fetched the tallest stool he could find, almost as tall as he was. Then he placed it in the centre of the room, and climbed on top. He found he was still just a bit short of the attic hatch.

" _ Ashe! Give me a hand! - er - coil? _ " he called softly. Ashe was quick across the floor, up the stool, up Harry's legs, and up to his shoulders.

" _ Very funny. _ " She hissed.

" _ Can you reach up there? _ " Harry asked her. She hissed the affirmative.

She coiled her way up his outstretched arm, well able to reach the door with length to spare. With some effort, and with Harry also pushing her, they both managed to shove the hatch away. She then continued to reach upwards, and hauled herself up. Once she was clear, Harry bent his knees and sprang up, grabbing the edge and following her in.

He cast a  _ lumos _ to light the attic space. He remembered that Hagrid kept a lot of old stuff here, having mentioned that a lot of the old Potters' memorabilia that he wasn't sure Harry was ready for was up here.

In short, this meant photos that would have Sirius in. So far he had been kept absent from the photos Harry had been given, but the value of the photos meant Hagrid would never destroy them. With Sirius innocent, the need for sensitivity was moot, so he figured there was no harm in having a look about.

Mostly there were spare piles of furs and leathers kept up here, but soon enough Harry found the box he was looking for. Ashe climbed up his back and hung off his shoulder to take a look.

Harry knew that his father had had three close friends at school, Peter, Remus and Sirius, so it should be easy enough to find a photo of the four of them.

He sifted through the mish mash assortment of photos; there were seemingly a few containing more distant Potter ancestors, which could be interesting, but that's not what Harry was after at the moment. He almost skimmed past a photo of four men before he recognised his dad in it, and looked closely at it.

They were waving together at the camera, in what Harry recognised as the garden of the Potters’ cottage. On the left was Peter; Harry felt suddenly cross at the sight of his presumably false smile, though he thought he could see a hint of nervousness flash through occasionally. Harry twinged at a reassuring grasp from Ashe in his shoulder.

" _ That friend of your father's smashed his nose, if that makes you feel any better. _ " she hissed, quietly.

" _ It does, thanks. _ " Harry replied. He didn't feel a sense of  _ loss _ of his parents, really, as he loved his dad very much. It was almost more the idea, the principle, of the treachery. Harry glared at Peter before moving on.

On the right side was Remus. Harry wondered where he was; dad said he had tried a couple of times to get him over to meet Harry, but that Remus apparently had his own private reasons for keeping his distance. He couldn't fathom what those would be, but his dad had left a more or less open invitation in their last correspondence for a visit. Harry saw a deep tiredness in Remus' eyes, no doubt the war having kept him awake many nights.

With a fond, passing smile at James, Harry looked at the man with his arm around his shoulders; Sirius Black, his godfather.

It was an exciting thought.

Certainly the man didn't look as shifty as Peter did. He had dark black hair, not unlike his own, though rather more unkempt, hanging down almost to his shoulders. His eyes were a bit wild; certainly, Sirius looked the lively sort. He also sported a short beard of facial hair. He was a handsome man.

After a good, long look to get a firm idea of what he looked like, Harry continued pulling out photos, piling the ones with Sirius separately; he hoped to talk to dad about the more interesting looking ones later. There was one with Sirius, James and Hagrid in a bar, sharing a drink together. Harry knew his dad had ended up good friends with James, particularly after they left Hogwarts, but it was starting to look like he'd also been friendly with Sirius. No wonder he didn't like to talk about him.

Near the bottom of the pile, Harry's throat caught as he saw the next photo. At a distance, Sirius was sat with his back to the camera in the kitchen, cradling a baby, unaware of the photographer's presence. Sirius was playing with the smiling baby gently. Seeing the photo sparked a jolt of memory in Harry's mind, shocking him. Sirius had really been quite fond of him.

Harry had remembered bits and pieces before on occasion looking at his parents' photos, but not Sirius before. It was surprising to suddenly have memory of someone new. It seemed like Sirius had a bit of a rough, gravelly voice. An odd thing to recall though was a scent that, thinking about it, smelled a bit like dog, like Fang, rather than anything else.

Wiping his eyes, Harry collated the photos of Sirius, and gave them to Ashe to hold in her mouth as he closed the box back up, then hopped back down out of the attic. He took the photos and put them on the table, before reaching up with Ashe again to pull the hatch back over.

As he lifted the stool to return it to its former position, Harry was startled by his scar hurting again, more strongly than before, and dropped it. A shadow passed the window simultaneously, so Harry darted up to the window to have a look, seeing a heavily robed figure trotting up to the castle at a quick pace. He noted the edge of a turban as the hood of the robes slipped a bit, and realised it was Professor Quirrell. Harry wondered what he was up to, but shrugged it off and put the stool back properly.

Rather excited by the prospect of having a real live godfather, Harry found himself quite fidgety. He wondered how long everything would take to sort out at the Ministry. Where would Sirius go when he was released? Did he even have a home to go to? From the photos Harry had, he got the impression that Sirius was a frequent background element of the Potters' lives. There was even a photo with who he presumed to be James' parents, based on the familial resemblance. Harry supposed that there might not be much reason for his parents to have had photos of Sirius, or themselves, with  _ his _ family, but still, he couldn't help but notice and get the feeling something was a bit off.

He had been daydreaming and thinking for a while, looking idly out the window, when he saw a centaur cautiously emerge from the forest, and come towards the hut. They were friendly enough, if a bit odd, but usually kept to themselves, such was the way of the centaurs. This one seemed to be carrying something carefully, and as he drew nearer, Harry recognised him as Firenze, arguably the friendliest and least centaur-like centaur; he was less likely than any of the others to break conversations off into peculiarity.

Harry knocked on the window and waved at Firenze to get his attention. He came over, as Harry shouted at the window "Dad's not here, and I'm not meant to open the doors or windows!"

Firenze took stock of the hut, looking it over; Harry wondered if he could sense the protective charms the acting headmistress had put in place. He seemed satisfied, either way.

"I bear a message for Hagrid, then: unicorn blood has been spilt in the forest - I bring this trace, which will remain here for when he returns - but we have found no unicorn." He gingerly put down the object, a small branch, he had carefully brought over, before giving an odd sort of wave, which Harry returned, before heading back into the trees.

Harry couldn't help but feel a little nervous at that. But there was nothing he could do about it now. He just hoped dad would be home soon...

~~~

It was dark in the hut, save for a few candles Harry had lit, as well as the lowly simmering fireplace. Head down on a desk of schoolwork, Harry had dozed off, a small pile of drool accumulating.

The fireplace glowed green, and spat out Hagrid. He had bags under his eyes, but a cheery countenance of accomplishment. Seeing Harry there, he swiftly scooped him up and took him to his bedroom, laying him gently down on his bed. Harry stirred. "Wha- hi, dad." He yawned deeply. "Missed you." Harry sat up and stuck his arms out for a hug.

With a smile, Hagrid returned it affectionately. Through the cracked door, the  _ whuff _ of someone using the floo could be heard.

"...Sirius?" Harry asked, eager to meet him. Hagrid shushed him with a finger.

"Sirius is still _ very _ tired, Harry. I think yer best wait 'til morning; he's stayin' with us fer a whoile at least anyway, so you have plenty of toime to get ter know 'im." Hagrid smiled at him, knowingly. "Besides, yer clearly tired yerself. Get changed fer bed, an' get ter sleep, alrigh'?"

Standing up sharp, Harry was about to protest when another deep yawn caught him off guard. His eyes drooped unwillingly. "...yeah, ok. Night, dad." Harry smiled up at him.

"Night, son." Hagrid bade him, kissing him fondly on the head, before leaving as Harry began to change and quietly closing the door.

In the kitchen space, Sirius had set about preparing hot water. He had a bedraggled appearance, still in his Azkaban robes, and was pretty dirty. But his eyes were bright with awareness.

He was free, and could scarce believe it. Wormtail had actually been  _ caught _ ; once his thoughts had coalesced more thoroughly in Azkaban, he was sure that Wormtail was beyond capture, and would quite likely die somewhere as a rat, ensuring Sirius was doomed. Acting as a pet had been a clever way of staying safe and healthy rather than braving a wild existence, but it had ultimately proved his downfall.

"Are you sure you don't mind me staying here for a while, Hagrid? It's just, I'm not at all ready to deal with Grimmauld Place-"

"-don' worry 'bout it!" Hagrid cut him off. "We're more than happy to share our home wit' yer. It's the least we can do after bein' stuck in bloody Azkaban so long, anyway."

Sirius smiled weakly, still a bit worried about potentially overstaying his welcome; Hagrid was too kind hearted to tell a guy when enough was enough. As he poured out a couple of mugs of water, Hagrid pulled out some whisky.

"Fancy a nightcap in yer drink?" He asked. Taking the silence as an answer, Hagrid added some to his mug.

"That'll do wonders, Hagrid. Before anything else, I am looking forward to a restful sleep for the first time in ten years." Sirius smiled, adding cocoa to his drink and giving it a mix. Hagrid opted for tea.

They took to the table, Hagrid carefully shifting the schoolwork aside, noticing the photos under the pile. Harry really must be excited, Hagrid thought. He also spied a small note Harry had left on top:  _ Firenze found unicorn blood, left it outside, wanted dad to know _ . That was rather concerning, but it was too late and he was too tired to do anything about it now; it would have to wait 'til morning.

Sirius perked up a little as he sipped gently at his mug. "So, what have I missed? Aside the obvious; Dumbledore's still Headmaster, Fudge is Minister now…"

Scratching his beard, Hagrid gave it some thought. "Truth be told, it's been pretty quiet for major news. I think tha's all anyone wanted when You-Know-Who was gone…"

Sirius leaned forward onto his arms, hungry for news. "Well, what're the old guard up to then? You and Harry? Remus? Also, do you have anything to nibble on?"

With a quiet chuckle, Hagrid summoned some bread and cheese, which Sirius watched open eyed as it came over. He grabbed it out of the air before delicately beginning to eat it. "So when did you get your wand back? How'd that happen?"

"Tha's a long story, but basically I needed magic ter help with 'Arry, an' I was cleared of blame for the chamber o' secrets thing, thanks ter Dumbledore." Hagrid explained. "I make wands now too… Harry's doin' well at Hogwarts, performin' well most every class, is friends with Longbottom, Weasley and a muggleborn girl, Granger…"

Sirius was looking about the room, listening eagerly. "Longbottom? That's interesting, and Weasley. Probably how things would've turned out anyway if the Potters weren't dead…"

"Neville's not really got his parents either, so to speak. They've been in Mungo's for ten odd years." Hagrid said.

Sirius grimaced, taking a glug of his cocoa. "Typical… wands though, Hagrid? I'm impressed. And you've really straightened things out in here in general."

"Had ter, really. Fer Harry an' all." Hagrid explained succinctly.

"I am eager to meet him, but…" he yawned deeply. "...not before I've slept and cleaned myself up." Sirius drained his mug. "One last thing though, how is Remus doing?"

Hagrid frowned. "I 'aven't really seen him, honestly."

Sirius eyed him unpleasantly. "Hasn't he met Harry?"

"'S'not like I ain't  _ tried _ . He says he's busy, and he should keep out the way fer reasons 'e won't tell me." said Hagrid.

Straightening up, Sirius huffed in annoyance. "Should've guessed, really. Bloody martyr, and none of us have been around to tell him to get a grip…"

"Oi did try, but he weren't 'avin' it. Can't  _ make _ 'im do anything, can I?" Hagrid said, exasperated.

"Maybe  _ you _ can't." Sirius said, decisively. "I'm sure he'll see me in the Prophet before long, send me an owl, and I'll give him a piece of my mind in return."

After sitting there a moment, it was obvious Sirius was tired now from the day's excitement. Hagrid helped set him up with blankets and furs as best he could, apologising for the lack of a proper bed and offering his own, but Sirius was more than happy to swaddle up in a heap on the floor anyway; it was comfortable but still similar enough to what he was used to, rather than being drastically different. Hagrid had barely finished bidding Sirius a good night before he was snoring, so quietly made his way to bed himself.

~~~

In the Headmaster's office, the fire blazed green as Professor Dumbledore stepped in.

At the desk, Minerva looked up in confusion. "Back early, Albus? I did get your owl at dinner stating you'd still be absent until tomorrow at least."

"Well, things went smoother than I thought." He turned and threw floo into the fire. "I should like to rest for now, though, so if you would." He gestured politely at the fireplace.

Minerva stood up. "I expect you to tell me about it all tomorrow. I assume it went as expected, though?" Albus nodded. "Very well, then. Goodnight, Headmaster." she said, heading to the fireplace, stating her destination and leaving.

Silently, Dumbledore swept to his desk and took a couple of black phials of potion out of his drawers, something he'd asked Professor Snape to brew at the start of the year as soon as he could. He quietly called Fawkes to him, who perched on his shoulder. They both watched the array of instruments on his desk; most older than Dumbledore himself, some of forgotten function, all tracking and measuring various things going on in Hogwarts. Some Dumbledore had crafted himself, one of which in particular he was watching. It was a copper coil tied into a knot, mounted on a tin plaque. It was quivering slightly. Man and bird fixated on it intently.

The coil suddenly began untying itself. Dumbledore stood, wand drawn, face tight, ready to spring into action. After a few moments, the coil became straight and taut. As it did so, Fawkes burst into flame, also alighting Dumbledore, and both vanished.

~~~

In the depths of Hogwarts' corridors, Professor Quirrell stood before a large, elegant mirror. The room was a perfectly circular dead end along several corridors that fed off of the currently forbidden third floor corridor.

His turban had been shed to the floor, allowing his bald head to breathe. Only it was not entirely devoid of features, as it bore a face of it's own. It grotesquely protruded from the flesh, grimacing in irritation. The red tinted pupils gave away the identity of this second face as none other than Lord Voldemort. Or at least, what remnants of him lingered.

The reason for his irritation was that Quirrell was completely fixated with the mirror. Once he had looked into it, Voldemort had been unable to get his attention. His malevolent eyes flitted about anxiously.

Suddenly, a flash if white at the one entrance to the room startled him. A mix of fear and rage contorted his face, as by sheer magical will, Quirrell's body swung around, wand at the ready. But it was not quick enough, as the Professor's body suddenly became stiff and fell to the floor, face first.

Voldemort snarled as a pair of footsteps, followed by a second set, quickly approached him. As they did so, a voice he recognised as Dumbledore's chanted, the ceiling above shifting into an elaborate, prepared pentagram. His attempt to forcibly vacate his host was stopped, and he began to panic when he saw Severus loom over him, and cast him into darkness.

~~~

Dumbledore hunched down, and with Severus' help, quickly flipped Professor Quirrell over. He forced open his mouth, and fed him the potion he had brought with him. Thinking, he lifted his head and opened the mouth of the wretched Voldemort. He looked at it. Severus stood by, waiting. His nose wrinkled at the uncovered stench.

" _ Ennervate _ him from your stunner after I lift my petrification of Quirrell, Severus. Then I shall see if more is required." Dumbledore said.

With a wave of his hand, Quirrell's body fell limp in his hold. Dumbledore laid him down, but hunched down firmly over the back of his head, ready for whatever may happen.

" _ Ennervate _ ." Severus cast. Immediately Voldemort's eyes flashed open, and the pentagram glowed dimly as it held back his attempts to free himself from Quirrell. Quickly, Dumbledore cast an  _ Impirio _ on Voldemort, causing him to stop. Then Dumbledore fed him the potion, and he went still, eyes closing. Watching him a moment to be certain it had worked, Dumbledore breathed out the breathe he'd been holding.

"Thank you, Severus, for being at hand. And for your enhanced draught of living death, naturally." he said.

"What now, then?" Severus asked.

"I will stay and reinforce the enchantments keeping Voldemort here, and then I shall retire once I am certain he will remain secure here. I shall probably be absent at breakfast tomorrow; I will need rest after tonight, and I shall have to try to find a replacement for Quirrell to teach when I am awake."

"Then I shall remain until you are finished." Severus said, as he left the room. He returned shortly with Fawkes and the portkey he had used to get here quickly, since he lacked a phoenix. Dumbledore instructed Hogwarts to seal the room, the corridor totally disappearing until the room was a circular wall all around. Severus sat down to watch as Dumbledore began laying down intricate chalk runes around the prone Quirrell. He studiously avoided looking at that blasted mirror; he'd already made that mistake once prior. Never again. Torturous thing it was; it was almost impossible not to fall for the mirror's charms, both literal and figurative. It had served its purpose well, though, he supposed. Certainly it would do well to continue to protect the stone Dumbledore had sealed inside it, somehow or other.

The Headmaster eventually finished, and roused Severus from his musings. Dumbledore held his arm as Fawkes alighted on him, and in a flash of flame they were back in the Headmaster's office.

Dumbledore smiled a tired smile. "A job well done, I should say. Could you please inform Minerva to continue acting as deputy for tomorrow? I think I shall be predisposed."

"Indeed. I will do so at breakfast tomorrow. I also need to retire, I think." He threw some floo into the fire. "Goodnight, Albus."

Dumbledore inclined his head in response, as Severus stepped away into the fire for a well earned few hours sleep.

~~~

Harry woke up at the usual time ready for school. However, he sat in bed a moment, wondering if he had to go today. He did want to meet Sirius first, though he supposed there'd be time later anyway.

Somehow his dad knew when he was up, as always. The call of "Harry, breakfast!" came through the door. In short order, Harry was presentably dressed and burst out, looking around. His dad was holding up a piece of hide, crudely spelling it into an overcoat shape, but too small for himself. A heap of freshly  _ scourgified _ blankets lay nearby. His breakfast was sitting on the table, waiting, but Sirius was nowhere to be found.

"Morning!" said Harry, seating himself at the table. He did notice a third plate of food almost as large as his dad's own, as he began tucking in to his own english breakfast. "Thanks, dad. Where's Sirius?" he asked.

“Heh, eager aren’t yer?” Hagrid said, laying the finished makeshift robes down onto some softer underclothes he’d already done. “‘E’s jus’ gettin’ washed up, too tired from yesterday to do it then. Yer wanna go to school today or have the day off again?”

“Oh, am I allowed then?”

“Dunno, but Oi’ll insist on it if yer want ter. Ah’m sure no one would moind, given the circumstance. But only today, ‘course.”

Harry chewed a mouthful of sausage and toast thoughtfully, though his dad suspected his mind was already made up and Harry was just giving the pretence of considering it. Harry swallowed his food. “I should meet Sirius properly, really. I hope he’d like to meet me, too. Do you think he would?” he asked, suddenly nervous.

Hagrid came over and placed a reaffirming hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I know he would, Harry. He’s excited to meet you too, y’know. Again, even.”

Leaning into his dad’s big hand, Harry thought about the picture he’d seen with him and Sirius. They had met before, long ago. Known each other. It was frustrating that Harry had been so young that he now scarcely remembered it. Some ideas of memory had come to him though, having seen the photo with him and Sirius. Not clear memories, but something.

As Harry finished his breakfast, a knocking was heard at the bathroom door. Hagrid took over the crude clothing he had hastily whipped together and handed it through the door. From his spot Harry heard a muffled “Cheers” through the ruffling of towels. Harry listened quietly to the chatter.

“...best I’ve felt for years. Obviously I suppose. Thanks for these, Hagrid.”

“They’ll do fer now, ‘til yer can get measured up properly at Malkins.”

“All the same, I am relishing them at the moment.”

A deep few sniffs, speeding up to dog-life huffing.

“...is that food?”

Dad chuckled. “It’s sat at the table waitin’ for yer. And Harry, I ‘spose.”

Quiet.

“He… he is?”

“Yes, an’ he’s got the day off school, so hold yer horses and get  _ dressed _ .”

“O-of course, of course…”

There was the heavy ruffling sound of one who is clothing themselves hastily and haphazardly. Then suddenly, Sirius was stood there, looking at him wide eyed. They were both a bit lost for words. Hagrid tactfully made himself busy doing nothing in particular at the kitchen counter.

He was clean and with a generally cheerful countenance, but Harry was a little taken aback by the comparison of this man to the photos he had seen; even under the robes Harry could see his body weight was a bit low, his naturally deep eyes were deeper still, his face generally a bit gaunt. Azkaban was not known for taking care of its prisoners, such was the crimes that warranted placing there.

Harry was even more shocked, however, to be looking at Sirius in the flesh. The closest thing remaining to his birth family, that he didn’t even know he’d had a couple of days ago. And somehow, he could tell Sirius was thinking the same thing.

He stepped closer nervously as Sirius knelt to meet his eye level. “H-hello, Harry.” his voice shook, as he offered a hand out for Harry to shake.

Looking at the hand, and Sirius’ nervous yet hopeful expression, he smelt a tinge of wet dog from Sirius, reminding him again of that scene. He stepped past the arm and wrapped his arms round Sirius’ shoulders, giving him a great hug.

Tears flowed down Sirius’ face as he grasped Harry in return, a little bit too tightly, but Harry didn’t mind. He understood.

“Always were a good lad.” Sirius muttered into his head. He patted Harry’s shoulders and leaned back, holding him at arm's length and having a good look, smiling gently. “You look a damn sight like James, you know.”

“So I’ve been told!” Harry said excitedly, trying to brush away the excessive sentimentality of the moment a bit, but still happy to finally meet his godfather. He noticed Hagrid standing at the counter, eyes wet with unshed tears, smiling happily at them. He clapped his hands, giving them a good excuse to get up. “C’mon now, yer breakfast will get cold!” he told Sirius, as he pointed his wand at the plates to make them nice and hot again. Sirius rolled his eyes as he took the given direction and came to the table. Harry trotted up to his empty plate and sat expectantly.

With that thought, Sirius actually looked at and smelled the food, and was instantly upon it. Harry couldn’t help but giggle a bit. Even if the reasoning behind Sirius’ food drive was not very nice.

“Least ‘e’s usin’ cutlery this time…” Hagrid muttered to himself.

Sirius made an unintelligible noise through his food, that Harry guessed translated as “I heard that”. He finished his mouthful. Mostly. “You can hardly blame me, Hagrid. Not having real food for ten years will do that.” he said.

“What was it like in there?” Harry asked him.

Sirius looked to Hagrid uncertainly. He didn’t say anything or indicate he shouldn’t talk about his experience, though, so… “Azkaban is not a nice place, Harry. It’s reserved for those who commit the worst of crimes. If it was empty I suppose it would just be a pretty boring cell to sit in, but your own thoughts are the very poison they torture you with there. Seeing as the dementors patrol the corridors between the cells…”

It was a sad look Harry had, and Sirius almost felt guilty talking to him about this, but he did ask. Hagrid was somewhat surprised, and pleased, that Hagrid wasn’t telling him to shut up; whilst Sirius wanted far better for Harry than his own childhood, he also wouldn’t necessarily believe in mollycoddling children from the evils of the world. He supposed both he and Hagrid had lived through too much to think that pretending it didn’t happen was worse than confronting it openly.

Hagrid did, however, get up and go to the kitchen to make some drinks. Harry looked back at Sirius. “Dementors? What do they actually look like?”

Sirius tapped his chin lightly as he chewed. “Can’t say I ever wanted to look much at ‘em. But I was there long enough… empty, hollow cloaks they seem to be. They don’t really have much of a body other than that. Can never see a face in the dark hood, either. I suppose, thinking about it, they’re not much to look at when they’re not making you feel wretched. I did notice they smell pretty rank, though. Not much else to describe of them than that.”

Perhaps it was the innocence of his true naivety, but Harry seemed curious and bright in spite of things. Hagrid returned with mugs of hot chocolate for the table. Sirius eagerly drank deeply of it, with thanks.

“I’m surprised you noticed how they smell.” said Harry.

“Yes, well, it’s hard not to when… Hagrid, does Harry know?” Sirius asked.

Hagrid gave no indication whatsoever. “Hm?” Hagrid asked.

Sirius just gave him a plain look. “As I was saying, it’s hard not to when there’s nothing else about to smell much. You’re so understimulated in there you become very familiar with everything in there in a short amount of time…” he looked empty for a moment, before breaking out of his reverie. “Anyway, that’s enough of that. Not that there’s even much else to tell you about the wretched experience. I want to know about  _ you _ , Harry.”

“Me?”   
“I’m your godfather, Harry. I did know you ever since you were born. I have been as excited about meeting you as you me, if not more, I’ve got ten years of absentee godfatherhood to catch up on. Tell me about yourself!”

Harry just looked blankly at him. “Uh…”

“I think ‘e needs more direction than that, Sirius.” Hagrid half-whispered.

“Oh, alright.” Sirius nodded. “Tell me about, um… your friends, Harry. I know you have at least one in the Weasley lad, and a good thing you are friends with him, or else I might not even be here.”

Harry smiled. “Yes, that’s Ron. He’s funny and loyal. There’s Neville, who likes plants and is more sensitive than Ron. And Hermione, who’s really smart. She reads a lot.”

Sirius waggled his eyebrows at him teasingly. “A girlfriend already, Harry?”

“Ew, no!” Harry protested.

Laughing, Sirius ruffled his hair. “Only teasing, Harry. Just don’t protest quite so loudly when she’s around though, eh? She might get a bit upset.”

“Why?”

“You’re kind of calling her gross in a roundabout way, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I guess. Didn’t think about it like that.”

“And neither did we when we were your age. So that’s why I’m telling you now. They’re all your schoolmates, any friends outside of that, from before you started classes?” Sirius asked him.

“Just some of the professors, maybe. And the animals, too.” Harry said quietly, looking down at the table.

Leaning forward intently, Sirius asked “Oh, like who then?” in an interested fashion.

That made Harry feel slightly less foolish, at the admission he’d basically not had any. He counted off his fingers the biggest ones “Let’s see, professors… Professor McGonagall, Headmaster Dumbledore, and Professor Snape, mainly I talk to a lot.”

“Snape?  _ Severus _ Snape?” Sirius said, shocked.

“Do you know him? Oh, I suppose you must have been at Hogwarts at the same time...” said Harry, a little taken aback.

Sirius didn’t want to upset Harry at this early stage, but still, it was difficult not to be, well,  _ surprised _ “Uh, something like that, yes. Yes, we were. We… weren’t friends, I’ll put it that way.”

“Fer what it’s worth, it  _ ‘as _ been ten years, Sirius. Most ev’ryone’s changed a bit over that time. Oi know Oi have.” Hagrid chimed in.

“So, what you’re telling me, Hagrid, what you are informing me about… is not to throw a dungbomb at him when I first meet him again?”

“...no.”

Harry giggled a little at the mild banter.

“‘E ‘elped guard Pettigrew when we caught ‘im, fer what that’s worth.” said Hagrid.

Sirius just nodded in recognition of that. Might do as an icebreaker, he supposed. He would have to try to at the very least, be civil. But maybe Snape had changed. He can’t be all that bad if Hagrid and, more importantly, Harry actually like him.

“I know McGonagall well enough, and obviously Albus too. Animals though, Harry? There aren’t too many people like Hagrid that really call them friends.” Sirius said. “Any in particular?”

“Well, I like all the thestrals, but Tenebrus is my favourite. We always have fun together. I’ve even got a hair of his in my wand, look!” Harry drew his wand and handed it to Sirius, who took it and gave it a good look.

Sirius looked at it in wonder “A thestral core wand?” He said, turning it over. “Curious.  _ Curious indeed _ .” Siris said, cryptically.

Hagrid cuffed him gently on the shoulder. “Oh, stop it Sirius, you sound jus’ like bloomin’ Ollivander.”

“I know, right?” Sirius grinned, mockingly. Hagrid huffed. “Seriously though, Ollivander wouldn’t have made this. This is good work, Hagrid, I don’t think I’d have realised it wasn’t an Ollivander wand at first.”

“Only at firs’? You wound me, Sirius.”

“That’s not what I meant. It’s just… it feels different, Hagrid, and that’s probably the core, isn’t it? I’ve held enough wands to find this one feels odd. That’s all.” Hagrid looked happier at that, so Sirius continued. “So, Tenebrus, we can meet him later I suppose. Anything, anyone, else?”

Harry perked up a moment, but then said nothing. Sirius was confused, but decided to be patient. Sirius noticed Hagrid give him a bit of a look, before dropping Harry in it, so to speak.

“You do ‘ave a familiar, ‘Arry. Why don’t you show her to Sirius? They really should meet if they’re gonna be livin’ together fer a bit at least.”

Sirius felt warm and cosy inside. Despite his protests he was… very grateful to Hagrid for his offer. Not only would he get to be around Harry and make up for some lost time, but his other option of Grimmauld Place was not anything like pleasant.

He suddenly wondered if Kreacher was still alive. He’d have to check. At some point.

Sirius pretended not to notice as Harry looked at his dad for reassurance, before twisting in his seat. He wondered why on earth Harry would be so concerned. He was obviously a dog person, but did it really seem like he’d hate cats that much? Or was it a toad and he was embarrassed because of that? Because that was nothing to-

...

Did Harry just  _ hiss? _

He watched in quiet awe as an ashen form left the top of the mantlepiece, slithering down across the floor to climb Harry’s chair. He saw intense, orange eyes meet him briefly as the red tongue flicked, increasingly rapidly as the snake ascended up to the height of the table. It eventually coiled around Harry’s arm, watching him.

Eventually he realised Harry was also watching him, and decided that retaining composure was probably important in reassuring Harry. “So this is your familiar, Harry? What’s, uh, their name?”

Harry idly stroked her coils. “Ashe. You don’t mind the parseltongue?” he asked uncertainly.

“I was a little surprised, but it’s not bad. I’m sure my family would be thrilled if any of them were still alive, though. I may have to check some of those old books…” Sirius’ mind wandered off as he muttered to himself, mildly curious about the genealogy. “Anyway, anyway, so this is Ashe. What kind of snake are they?”

Whilst it seemed obvious to Harry, he was mildly amusing to realise Sirius couldn’t place the gender of her. “Ashe is, well, an ashwinder dad hatched. And Ashe is a  _ she _ , by the way.” he smiled, pleased.

Sirius just looked confused, looking at her. “Hatched? I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Neither did we, ‘s why we tried.” Hagrid said. “She’s over six months old now.”

“That’s pretty cool. I bet that Newt Scamander chap would love to hear about this!”

“Oh, definitely we’ve been ‘avin’ some chats about it already. Think e’s’ gonna try to ‘atch some too.”

“Are you that friendly with him? I didn’t quite catch what your relationship was really like, with all that was going on at the Ministry.”

“We’ve bin friends fer years now. ‘E turned up when the Ministry came and, uh, helped clear out all the acromantula from the forest.”

“Good grief, acromantula in the forest? Several, even? How did that happen? Did-”

Sirius looked at Hagrid blankly.

“Oh, Hagrid, really?”

“Well, ‘course it looks stupid now! I did say Oi’ve changed, yer know. Hard to believe I was so daft, sometimes.”

They sat quietly a moment. Harry and Ashe were leaned together conspiratorially. He quietly perked up.

“Ashe says you kind of taste like the rat-man that was here.” He said.

It took Sirius a moment for the words to sink in. Suddenly, he was back in Azkaban; the dementors were close. His nails dug into the cold flesh of his arm as he hunched, back scraping against the jagged bricks forming the cell wall. An endless cycle of chastising himself for his failures, of reliving the moment he knew that James and Lily were dead, and also the moment that a lifelong, trusted friend, his family, was suddenly an enemy, the lowest scum of the low, a death eater.

Sirius flew up to standing, glaring intensely at the serpent. “I am  _ not _ like him! Nothing, you hear me!?” he roared, fists tight, eyes tearing up slightly. The empty plates on the table shook, the cups flew off the table.

Harry fell back in his chair, catching himself on his arm. He whimpered as he looked up at Sirius, shocked.

Immediately, Sirius caught himself. He breathed fitfully, trying to slow down. Hagrid got Harry up, patting his shoulder reaffirmingly, as he went to Sirius and grasped his shoulder, too.

“I-I’m sorry, guys. I wasn’t angry at you, Harry, I just- Azkaban is still a little fresh, you know?” he said, upset at himself. He took his place at the table again. With Hagrid’s encouragement, Harry scooted back in his seat, too. Ashe observed Sirius passively; he did notice she had not bared her fangs at him.

“Ashe must be very perceptive, not to try to defend you from me. She must be a good familiar.” Sirius smiled. Harry smiled back, a little unsure.

Hagrid breathed a loud sigh. “Fer what it’s worth, Sirius, you an’ Pettigrew do have that  _ one _ thing in common, she can prob’ly tell it.”

He had to stop himself bristling just a little, but then Sirius realised the obvious thing Hagrid and Ashe must have meant. He pinched his nose. “I see. I had hoped to keep this a secret and surprise you, Harry, but I may as well show you now so you can see what Ashe can smell. Taste. Whatever.” He blustered, as he got off his chair. Harry watched, curious now.

Quite suddenly, Sirius was gone, replaced by a large, black, shaggy haired dog. Harry gasped in shock, and then realised what they shared in common. “Wow, that’s awesome!” Harry was up and across to Sirius, his dog form being more naturally approachable, in the way of animals. He didn’t match any particular breed, though he mostly resembled a black wolfhound. He was very nearly as big as Fang, and Fang was an abnormally large bloodhound, even. On that note, Fang, who had been roused from his dozing by the previous outburst, was now very interested. Sirius returned it in kind; one cannot be a dog without, well,  _ being _ a dog, and understanding the subtle communications they engage in. They continued a moment, as Harry stroked Sirius a bit more, before he straightened up into a man once again.

“Made Azkaban a damn sight more bearable, that’s for sure.”

“When I’m older, can you teach me? Professor McGonagall gave me some notes already.” Harry asked, excited.

A tear came to Sirius’ eye. He surreptitiously wiped it away, as Hagrid grinned knowingly, clearing the crockery away. “I would love that more than anything, Harry.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Did you know I first did the animagus transformation in my fourth year?” he whispered.

“You- really? Wow.” Harry whispered in awe.

Sirius nodded, proudly. “We all did. We learned because, um-” he wondered if he should tell Harry, but then, if Remus had wanted to, he’d more than had his bloody chance. “Our friend, Remus Lupin, was a werewolf. So the three of us, Me, James, and the other one, became animagi so we could keep him company. Made it much easier for him, that did.”

“I saw him in the photos. I thought he looked a bit… something.” Harry said.

“Yes, ‘something’ is the word, isn’t it?” Sirius said. “Padfoot, was my name.  _ Is _ my name, as a dog. Prongs was your dad, as he was a stag. Moony for the werewolf. And Wormtail, obviously.”

Hagrid, in the background, finished clearing up. He eyed Sirius, looked him up and down, and left quietly to his workshop. The two were lost in their learning and reminiscing.

Harry sat on the fireplace edge, a bit starstruck. “So the werewolf, Moony, didn’t attack you?”

“Not as long as we were animals. Werewolves have an aggressive instinct towards humans, and to a lesser extent themselves; when alone, they can smell the human part of themselves, and ravage their own hide. As long as we were around, we could distract him; I think sometimes he might even have enjoyed the experience. Shame he didn’t have as clear a memory of it as us, though.” Sirius lamented.

“What animal do you think I could be then?” Harry eagerly pressed him.

Sirius shook his head. “No idea, Harry. I would be remiss to suggest you’d be the same as your dad. James, that is. There are some signs during the learning process which you can make a good guess from, at least.” he mused.

That was a bit disappointing, but based on McGonagall’s notes, Harry had not really expected anything more. Not that it really mattered, he’d get there eventually. Maybe better not to know than anticipate something so dearly for years until he was old enough to do it himself.

“Where’s Remus now, anyway? I’ve never met him.” asked Harry.

Sirius sighed, frustrated. “I talked to your dad about this, yesterday. He ought to have come and seen you; he may not be your godfather like me, but the three of us-” Harry didn’t bother to correct him “-were all very close, like a family. Only not by blood.”

Harry nodded, understanding. Siris smiled, understanding knowingly.

“As a werewolf, Remus didn’t, and I doubt he does now, have the easiest time of it. No one wants to hire a werewolf. Even in the muggle world, his frequent absences from work make holding down jobs fairly difficult. Um, that’s a bit besides the point, I guess; it kind of ties in to Remus making a habit of isolating himself a bit. Without any of us to keep him in line, I suspect he’s fallen into old habits of thinking he’s a danger to everyone, and wanting to keep his distance for that reason, mixed with a certain amount of pride to look after himself. And naturally, given the state of him a lot of the time, he has charity foisted upon him by anyone he sees, so he prefers not to.”

Adults could be very silly sometimes, thought Harry.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

Sirius put his hand to his mouth thoughtfully. “Hmm… I suspect he’ll have heard by now that I am, in fact, not a murderer. I shall probably get a letter. And I shall reply, telling him what a plonker he is.”

Harry snickered.

“In all seriousness, though… I might hire him to work for me.” Sirius thought to himself aloud. “If he’s working for me, I might be able to convince him it’s not charity. And to tell the truth, he’s likely the best fit for what I want him to do anyway.”

“What do you want him to do?”

“Oh, well, my family home needs a complete makeover, and  _ that _ is the understatement of the last decade; I wonder if that elf is still alive... I’m sure some of my financial affairs are in a bit of disarray, too. I’d rather not worry about it myself so I can make him do it. Can’t be any worse than whatever he’s doing at the moment. Or not.”

At that moment, Harry not-so-suddenly realised that his dad had gone somewhere. He then remembered half noticing where he’d gone. He had a suspicion as to what he was doing, though…

“Can I see your wand, then, Sirius?” Harry asked him.

Sirius was a little surprised at the topic change, before looking a little crestfallen with realisation. “I’m afraid I don’t have it, Harry. Life sentences in Azkaban are meant to be that, so they destroy your wand… the Ministry have offered me more than enough compensation to get a replacement, but still…”

“Oh, I didn’t mean  _ now _ , I meant when it’s finished.” Harry said, knowingly.

“When it’s- what?” Sirius asked. He noticed Harry, with a grin on his face, inclined his head to the shut door behind him, where he could faintly hear Hagrid moving about. Then he cottoned on.

“Oi, Hagrid! You don’t have to do that!” Sirius called, getting up and knocking on the door. “I’ll just buy a new one off of Ollivander!”

Hagrid opened the door, with a faint look of disappointment. “Don’ yer want me ter?”

“Hardly, Hagrid, it’s just, I’ve imposed enou-”

Sirius suddenly found his mouth zipped shut. He glared angrily at Hagrid, who grinned cheekily, fingering his wand.

“You ‘ave not been anythin’ of the sort. Besides which, what makes you think I don’t want ter? If it really bothers yer, pay me to make it. Any excuse to practice, like.” he said, motioning his wand to allow Sirius his voice back, who licked his lips, testing them.

“...yeah, alright then. But I’m paying you, alright?”

Hagrid just nodded silently, before pulling a blindfold out his pocket and tying it round Sirius’ face, who spluttered in confusion.

“This is so you can ‘elp me make yer wand, so just calm down. And don’t roll your eyes at me!”   
“...how could you tell?” Sirius muttered, as Hagrid gently guided him into the room.


	15. Chapter 15

It was with mild reluctance that Harry was encouraged to go back to normal classes tomorrow. He didn’t mind really, but he still wanted to hang out with Sirius some more. But Sirius had his own life to sort out anyway, things to do, and Hagrid insisted that Harry had to get back to normal before too long.

The great hall was especially loud that morning as he joined in time for breakfast, and from the entrance, Harry could see why; the Weasleys had returned already. Much of Gryffindor house was gathered around them, helping cushion them against the curiosity coming from other house students trying to get their questions in. Some of them saw Harry, and began coming over to do the same to him, when-

“Please, be seated!” echoed across the hall from the Headmaster. Reluctantly, everyone returned to their seats. The table made space for Harry near the Weasleys as he came in and sat beside Ron. They flashed each other smiles briefly as Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“A couple of announcements before breakfast. To anyone who missed it yesterday, Professor Quirrell has unfortunately had to leave us on short notice, quite unexpectedly, so I will be filling in until a replacement for him can be found. Some of our students who have been the subject of recent news have also returned to our school today to resume their studies as normal; I understand you are all curious, but please give them their space and allow them a sense of normalcy. I’m sure you will get to ask any interesting questions in due time. Thank you!” With that, food promptly appeared, and served as a helpful distraction from anyone contemplating bugging the Weasleys again.

Harry and Ron looked at each other. “You first.” they both said, at the same time, before laughing. Hermione and Neville squeezed in opposite them as they calmed down and began filling their plates eagerly.

“How are you doing, Harry?” asked Neville.

“Yes, how is Mr. Black?” Hermione followed up.

Harry looked at them curiously. How did they know? He doubted Sirius’ whereabouts would’ve been common knowledge.

Hermione read right through him. “We came over to see how you were yesterday, and saw you outside with him. Just to try to see you, we  _ had _ been asked by the professors to give you some space, after all.”

Ron leaned in to listen quietly, as Harry told them.

“He’s… not great after being in Azkaban. But he’s super cool! We’ve had loads of fun talking, and getting to know each other. And it’s nice to have more family, he’s my godfather!” he exclaimed excitedly.

“The Daily Prophet said as much.” said Neville. “It’s been a bit of a hot topic, I’m afraid. At least it’s been a couple days for people to calm down, though.”

Harry agreed with that, thankfully. “How about you, Ron, how you been?”

Ron held up a hand as he finished chewing his current, loaded mouthful. Harry supposed being home with mum Weasley would do that; he’d be back to normal in a couple of days.

“Hm… it’s been alright. Kinda boring…” he trailed off a bit. He sighed. “We’re all still a bit upset about, well, y’know…”

Harry clasped his shoulder. “We’re all here, Ron. And he’s gone. I guess that’s it, isn’t it?” he said. “And if it wasn’t for you guys having him, well, my godfather would still be in Azkaban, so… thanks, really.”

The logic seemed a bit confusing to Ron, but he accepted it either way. “Thanks, Harry. That’s good to know.”

Nearby, the twins were conspiring. Oddly enough, Percy seemed to be involved. They leaned over. “Hey, Ron, Harry, guys.” said Fred. “We’ve got a game for later, after classes. You should come join us!”

“We’ll be in the common room!” finished George.

~~~

In the peace of Hagrid's hut, Sirius sat in Hagrid's oversized armchair by the fireplace. He was a bit nervous; Remus was due any minute. Hagrid had a unicorn to find or something, and had taken Fang with him, leaving Sirius alone for the time being.

Then came the knocking. Sharp, even and staccato; that was Remus alright.

Steeling himself, Sirius struggled up out of the chair, and went to open the door. And there, stood outside, was Remus.

Neither spoke for a moment, just gawping at one another and taking it all in; the absence of all their closest friends for the last decade, and this one remaining link to be amended.

"Come here, you idiot." Sirius finally said, grabbing Remus in a tight embrace. Remus eventually returned it, evidently still nervous.

"Well, come in then, we have plenty of catching up to do!" Sirius said light heartedly. Despite the long absence, Remus couldn't help but be relaxed by Sirius' personality. How he'd missed it.

"I-I still can't believe all this. You're  _ free? _ And not a death eater?" Remus gasped. He took Sirius' wordless direction to sit as he busied himself with making drinks for them.

"Well, rumours of my treachery were greatly exaggerated." Sirius blew it off. It was amazing how quickly they could ease into familiar patterns, despite everything.

Remus watched as Sirius nonetheless added a small shot of firewhiskey to his coffee and Sirius' tea, before bringing them to the table.

"So, what happened then?" Remus asked. "I've been… living Muggle. I've had nothing but your brief missives."

Sirius sighed. At the need to reiterate the story, or Remus' admittance of his poor living circumstances, Remus couldn't be sure. Probably both… definitely both.

In brief, Sirius summarised what he knew: the capture and discovery of Wormtail, primarily, then the official business at the Ministry sorting his legal status out, his emancipation and compensation. Remus was quite exhausted by the end of it.

"Wormtail, all this bloody time… but why? Just… why?" Remus despaired again.

"'Cos he's a perfect little coward. So scared of Moldemort that he served Lily, James and Harry up on a platter for the sake of his own miserable hide. Azkaban's too good for him." Sirius snarled. "I suppose he'll have it harder than me in there, though. Good bloody riddance." Sirius had previously explained how he'd kind of had to fess up to being an animagus, but on the plus side it meant he had helped ensuring Azkaban would now be animagus-proof.

Remus admired how Sirius was already bouncing back from his ordeal. Maybe a topic change would be in order, though.

"So how is your godson, then?" He asked.

"You really ought to be telling  _ me _ ." Sirius said, annoyed. "And spare me the usual, Remus. No one worth talking to cares about your furry little problem. Harry sure doesn't."

"You  _ told _ him?" Remus gasped. "How coul-"

"He. Doesn't. Care, Moony. He's a good lad, like the rest of us. It really isn't that big a deal, so would you stop acting like it is? Just because you know what being a woman is like-"

Remus snorted his coffee involuntarily, sputtering in shock and choking laughter at Sirius' inappropriate joke. He eventually saw Sirius grinning at him as he regained his composure.

"I've missed this, Sirius. Goodness knows I could have used you all this time… I can't believe I let myself get the better of me so easily." Remus lamented.

"I've always said your perspective was rubbish. So, what  _ have _ you been doing?" Asked Sirius.

"I did ask about Harry, you know-"

"Good lad. Want to know more, ask him yourself. Continue." Sirius said, resting his chin on his palm.

Remus rolled his eyes, though he supposed it was a mild 'punishment' from Sirius for being an idiot.

"All of it?" He asked.

"Mhm."

"Right, well, let's see… I went muggle pretty quickly. I had little opportunity among wizards so it made sense. It was hard to hold down a job for long, though I was roughing it so my expenses weren't too great. Eventually I had the idea to become self-employed-"

"Self-what?" Sirius asked.

"Muggle term for independent. Just as a private home cleaner, but I hold it fine as I am accountable only to myself. Honestly, it's not hard earning a muggle living when they don't know about magic."

"Lonely though, I bet."

"I do meet some interesting people… but yes. Hiding who I am gets tiresome, I admit."

"Well, you can work for me now, then!" Sirius declared. "Consider it your reintroduction to wizarding society!"

Remus sighed. "I don't want your charity, Sirius, I am perfectly fine."

Sirius leered at him. "Stop with the old routine, it's been ten years and I'm already bored of it. I do actually need an assistant at the moment, and you're more trustworthy than anyone else I could get hold of."

Remus stopped sulking to actually listen.

"My accounts and personal affairs need sorting out, and I am not in a position to do it alone. I  _ am _ still recovering from Azkaban, you know." Remus did note Sirius' gaunt frame, hidden though it was by his simplistic robes. "Grimmauld place is certainly in a state and unsafe, so that needs sorting out; I don't even know if the bloody elf is still alive. Some personal protection wouldn't go amiss when I go into public for now, either. The list goes on." Sirius waved his hand vaguely. "So, I do need you. Please." Sirius said succinctly.

Remus was hesitant, but Sirius would indeed need help. Some wizard money would also be useful for more than muggle money was, besides. He supposed, objectively speaking, he was the best fit for the job. He tentatively raised his arm up.

"...alright, I'll take the job." He said.

Sirius took his hand swiftly and shook it firmly. "Fantastic!" He said. "Delighted to have you on board. Now, what's first on the agenda?"

"Eh?" Remus asked.

"You're in charge now,  _ Lupin _ . You always had a better idea of how to go about doing things."

"And you really want to go out right now?"

"I suppose not really." Said Sirius. "Maybe some plans wouldn't hurt, though."

"Indeed. I think we should sort your elf out as a first priority, though. He could be useful." Remus thought out loud.

" _ No. _ I don't want anything to do with him."

"You can't just do nothing, though. Better sooner than later, especially if you intend to let him go."

Sirius sighed. "It'll kill him, if he isn't dead already. Not sure I want that on my hands, much as I loathe the git."

"Well, we'll just have to think of a way to make him useful that keeps him away from you and Grimmauld place. I may have an idea, let's see…" Remus said, as he retrieved writing implements from his suitcase he had brought with him, and began scribbling a list, as Sirius watched, intrigued…

~~~

Professor Snape watched as Dumbledore stood up away from the prone form of Quirrell; they had both had a free period at the same time, so Dumbledore had requested Snape to be at hand. Dumbledore sighed irritably. Snape raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Much of his mind somehow remains occluded from me; he must have performed some sort of ritual or spell to protect his most secret memories even in the most dire of circumstances. Alas, if only he had turned that mind to more positive endeavours." Dumbledore lamented.

Snape said nothing, as Dumbledore was lost to his own thoughts for a moment. "If not the horcrux, did you glean  _ anything _ useful?" He probed.

"Perhaps. There is a secret room in Hogwarts in the upper corridors. He at least has hidden the source of the curse on the defence position there. No wonder we never found it." Dumbledore lamented.

"It's something." Conceded Snape.

"Indeed, and it's not an unlikely hiding place for one of the horcruxes, either."

"...horcrux _ es? _ "

"Yes, there are possibly six. Based on a memory querying old Slughorn I found." Explained Dumbledore. "Seven is a powerful protective numeral, so six disparate pieces, separate from his own body and soul, could have helped strengthen their defensive enchantments. I did get a feel for multiple memories that were protected, leading to the identity of each horcrux."

This was not what Snape wanted to hear.

"You can't do something else with him?"

"Not that I think is worth the risk of failure. I do believe, however, that if we can locate just two horcruxes, that I can use them with Voldemort here to cast a triangulation charm to locate the others."

Snape hummed. "That is… preferable. But what leads do we have?" He asked.

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "I have some ideas, some based on the memories I just observed. I suspect the hidden room will be a good starting point. But for now, we need to clear out Quirrell's quarters; the new defence professor will need them to be safe." Dumbledore said, as he lead the way out of the sealed chamber to the fireplace.

"You already have a replacement who accepted?" Snape queried.

The Headmaster tossed some floo into the fire, clearly stating 'defence professor's quarters' before stepping through, followed by Snape.

"Well, I haven't actually asked Sirius just yet-" Dumbledore said, as he brushed his robes down of ash.

Snape spluttered. "-Black!? Surely you can't be serious-!"

"No, but  _ he  _ is, hence why I am asking him."

"...I do truly loathe you sometimes, Albus."

"Always glad to be of service." Dumbledore said absent mindedly, idly inspecting the thin layer of dust that had begun to cover the desk.

Snape glared.

"In all  _ sincerity _ ," Dumbledore continued, "it has been a long time since you both last spoke, so I'm sure you can at least be civil to one another."

It was true, Snape thought. His gut reaction was just that, and not one tempered by more rational thought.

"Perhaps… I haven't seen him yet since his release, admittedly." Snape conceded. "He  _ did _ try to get me killed, though."

"And I'm quite sure you'd have done the same, given the chance; both of you were foolish boys who maintained an animosity purely for its own sake beyond a certain point in your relationship. Do not doubt that I shall let him know the same if I need to." Dumbledore said.

Snape bowed his head, understanding.

"You could let him know of my invitation to the defence post later, if you wish." The Headmaster suggested. "It would be a good excuse to see him for yourself."

Snape was not convinced this was a mere suggestion at all. But nonetheless, he could see the merit in it, if Black would be likely to accept the post and thus subject the faculty to his constant presence. It was in fact, highly likely, seeing as it would be a good excuse to be around Harry, quite understandably. Snape nodded mutely at Dumbledore.

"Marvellous! Now, shall we deconstruct this room? There may be the odd curse so be wary."

They spent a time collecting Quirrell's personal possessions and separating them from the room's furniture. They found little of interest in the end, just ordinary teaching supplies. As they neared the end, Snape did hear Dumbledore muttering to himself though, as he fidgeted about under Quirrell’s bed.

"Ah! Severus, I found your errant leeches!" Dumbledore declared. Snape hurried over to inspect them in their glass vase **,** topped with muslin. “Hidden by a simple aversion charm, nothing terribly sinister.” Dumbledore explained.

Snape wasn't aware a leech could sulk, or look especially miserable. Yet here they were.

"I dread to think." Snape drawled as he lifted the vase, placing it on the desk. "I shall have to look them over more thoroughly later, but we are due to teach soon."

Dumbledore nodded. "The elves can help me dispose of the rest of the undesirable items. You can take your leeches away with you for now."

Snape inclined his head, and swept out of the room, leeches in tow.

~~~

The day passed by somewhat uneventfully. Curious students pestered them frequently, but not too often; they supposed many of them had actually listened to Dumbledore. In classes, professors would only allow it to a point, which also helped.

Ron’s mood had been fairly low throughout the day. Everyone tried to bolster him, with mixed success. Ron tried his best to cheer up, but couldn’t help himself. Seeing the better condition of the other Weasleys, Harry had asked Percy about it at lunchtime.

“Well,” he’d said, “I think Ron cared more about…  _ Scabbers _ … then the rest of us had, honestly. I just thought looking after it was to show responsibility, and the twins were distracted enough by each other not to become more attached. We weren’t sure if Ron should come in yet, but mum thinks the distraction and return to normalcy will help more at this point than sulking at home.”

Maybe it would just take a few more days, Harry thought to himself. He certainly hoped so; morose Ron was just peculiar. Ron had bad moods, sure, but that just felt like Ron being his hotheaded self. This was just wrong.

Eventually, the day’s lessons ended, and the group considered what to do next, when the twins happened to come past them.

“Hey guys, wanna come with us to the common room?”

“Yeah, we made a new game we wanted to try!”

Ron began to lament that he wasn’t really interested, but everyone pushed him to join in.

“Ah, I think you’ll like it, most of all…” hinted Fred.

So it was that they found themselves in the common room, whilst the twins dramatically set up their newfound game on the wall in Harry, Ron and Neville’s dorm space. Percy quietly came up the stairs behind them to watch.

“And so… behold!” they cried together, as the both stood back, revealing a crude, hessian blob attached to the wall. On closer inspection, it was rat shaped. Considering the decrepit shape Scabbers had been in, it was a surprisingly effective likeness.

“Presenting splat-the-rat! A fun game for all the family!” George declared, proudly. Everyone just stared bemusedly at the thing. Ron frowned.

“Ah, come on.” said Fred, coming over and slinging an arm around Ron’s shoulder. “It’s easy to play, just pick your favourite hex, and hex the ba-”

Percy coughed rather loudly. Fred shot him a sheepish grin.

“...-the bad rat.” he finished. “Go on, try one!”

Hesitating, but encouraged by his peers, Ron fired a half-hearted tripping jinx at the mock Scabbers.

“Blegh!” it shrieked, spinning a couple of times on the wall. Ron recoiled in shock, whereas everyone else burst out laughing, they had not expected that at all.

“Here, let me try-” said Harry, as he stepped forward and blasted it with a  _ Flipendo _ .

“Aargh!” the rat wailed, convulsing on the spot. Ron couldn’t help but giggle.

“Good, eh?” the twins said. “Come on, let’s have at it!”

What commenced could only be described as barely controlled chaos. All sorts of jinxes, and a few hexes from the older students, were flung at the surrogate rat. It screamed, it cried, it grew onions out of it’s armpits, it spun and writhed as it was subjected to a flurry of the worst spells the seven of them could think to throw at it. The commotion drew the attention of a few other students who had returned to the common room, who crept up the stairs behind them to peer in at the carnage, only to think better of hanging about and retreating back down the stairs.

Eventually, they all grew tired from the spell flinging, and the sorry looking rat dropped to the floor with a sigh as it deflated. Harry was pleased to see Ron looked better for the exertion.

“Nice toe-curler, Hermione.” said Fred.

“Thanks!” Hermione said in between breaths. “How did you make it anyway?”

“Percy helped a lot.” George said. Percy looked somewhat embarrassed, but Fred patted him on the shoulder to affirm him. “We had the idea a while ago, made a fake puffskein to just have fun with, but we turned it into a rat.”

“Obviously.” finished Fred.

“Hey, if you guys saw this in a shop-”

“-would you buy one?” they both asked. They smiled at the murmurs of assent they received.

“Well, this one’ll have to go on the list, then-”

“What list?” Neville asked.

“Now  _ that _ , would be telling!” Fred said.

“About what?”

“Our joke shop!” George proclaimed, proudly.

Fred cuffed him round the head. “You idiot! That was supposed to be a secret!”

“What was?”

“The joke shop!”

“What joke shop?”

“ _ Our _ joke shop, that we’re going to-”

George laughed at him as he dug his own hole. Fred sighed in a way that didn’t seem to be genuine exasperation. “Just a little idea we had. We reckon we can do stuff that Zonko’s can’t and corner the market!”

“Going all in on being pranksters, huh?” Percy sighed. “Well, business ownership is about as commendable as it gets in  _ that _ field. And you’ll always have a market as long as there are wizards and witches our age.”

“Like we said, it’s just an idea at the moment, but it helps to make plans!” said George.

~~~

More of the afternoon passed by in quiet companionship. Ron’s spirits seemed greatly lifted; perhaps all he’d needed was to physically vent his frustrations. After a while, it became evident that Harry was itching to get back to the hut and see how Sirius was doing. His friends all bid him farewell as they shifted turns playing and watching the twins’ suspect set of gobstones, Harry leaving his spot and exchanging it with Percy, who thought he might do a better job of trumping Hermione.

The corridors were fairly quiet at this sort of time, and Harry enjoyed the relative peace for the few minutes it would take him to descend the castle floors and cross the grounds.

Harry was lost in his thoughts when he bumped into a student coming the over way.   
“Oh, sorry!” he said, as he got his bearings, and then saw that it was Malfoy.   
Malfoy rolled his eyes theatrically. “Well, maybe if you kept your hands in your pockets instead of flailing your arms wildly, you wouldn’t have hit me. Either way, I’ve got stuff to do.” With that, he trotted off down the corridor with that fancy strut of his.   
Harry just blinked as he watched him saunter off; the other students present sat about averted their gaze and returned to whatever they’d been doing, uninterested.

Harry continued on, a bit perplexed. Malfoy had been largely quiet since the incident in potions, and had simply left them alone, and vice versa. He wondered if that would continue; though he was probably just overthinking a minor encounter. What was having your hands in your pockets like? He can’t say he ever really noticed many students walking around like that consistently. He couldn’t imagine it was very comfortable, but he decided to give it a try once he was outside-

-there was a piece of parchment in his pocket. He didn’t remember putting it there. Harry was alone out here, so he took it out as he walked and had a look:

_   
_ _ Meet me at midnight, by the rusty armour on the 2nd floor - I need to speak with you ~ Draco Malfoy _

Harry tucked it away in his pocket again. He couldn’t figure out why, or what it meant. Initially, he assumed it must be a trap, but… Malfoy  _ had _ kept to himself lately, stirring things up now didn’t make much sense. This must be why Malfoy walked into him in the corridor; it wasn’t an accident at all, just a surreptitious way to pass him this note. Which was also true of the words exchanged.

So Harry supposed there was no harm meeting him, but… after curfew? He was hesitant to break the rules to do so. But it might be worth it if it meant Malfoy would continue to behave well by appeasing him.

It seemed that invisibility cloak would get some worthy use, he supposed. It could even be fun. He’d just have to get out of here unnoticed. At least midnight should give him enough time to do so and reach his destination; he supposed Malfoy may have anticipated as much anyway.

His head was still full of thoughts of escape as he arrived home, but he was sure he could make out three figures from here. He wondered who the other one could be.

Harry let himself in, and everyone turned to look at the noise. Dad and Sirius were still there, smiling at him. The third man smiled uncertainly, but Harry recognised him as Remus Lupin; no doubt he and Sirius had had much catching up to do.

"Hello, Mr. Lupin!" Harry said, cheerfully.

"Erm- hello, Harry. How did you recognise me?" Said Lupin, confused.

"I've seen your photos."

"Ah, well, that would make sense. And please, call me Remus; Mr. Lupin makes me feel old."

"You are old." Chimed in Sirius.

Remus glared at him.

" _ Anyway _ ," said Remus, "I should like to get to know you more, Harry. Why don't you tell us about how your day was?"

Harry briefly summarised the day's lessons; nothing out of the ordinary he mentioned Ron's mood as well. Everyone listened intently. Then Harry talked about after classes, and how Ron and the rest of them had been cheered up. Remus looked uncertain, until he glanced at Sirius who had a big grin on his face.

"Simply brilliant. I think I should like a go at it too!"

"I should think you'll destroy it outright quite easily." Remarked Remus

Sirius nodded sagely, but nonetheless seemed intrigued. "Well, if they ever want to get started in on this joke shop, we shall have to show them a few tricks, eh Remus?"

"Aren't we a bit old for all that, Sirius?"

Sirius pointedly ignored him.

"Well, Oi'm glad Ron's feelin' a bit better now, anyway." Said Hagrid. "Yer'll have ter apologise fer me tardiness on the wands, 'Arry, it's been a bit busy, and I really must get Sirius' done first."

Harry nodded in acknowledgement.

Remus looked up. "Maybe you can start now whilst we talk to Harry about the elf, anyway?"

Hagrid hmed, then suddenly remembered something. "Ah, I'd better let Dumbledore know what Oi found today, actually. Shouldn't be too long." He knelt down to Harry and gave him a quick hug. "See yer soon, be good for Me. Lupin, eh?" He said, gently kissing his son on the head as he rose again. Harry snickered.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." Said Remus, as Hagrid hustled out the door.

Harry turned to look quizzically at the remaining adults.

"Right, Harry." Said Remus. "As you  _ may  _ have gathered, we sort of have an elf for you."

"Sort of?" Harry asked.

"Well, he's the Black's house elf, so Sirius' and by extension, yours. He's… not very friendly."

Sirius snorted loudly.

"If we're being honest, we need him out of our way. But we also think he could help keep you safe, as long as you have him to call. If you don't want him for anything else, you can just tell him to help out the Hogwarts elves. Is that alright?" Said Remus.

It was a lot for Harry to process, so he took a moment before saying that he was alright with it.

Remus clapped his hands together. "Alright, then. Sirius, are you ready for your part?"

On command, Sirius pulled a folded piece of parchment from his pocket.

"Right. Harry, please remain quiet; we do not expect Kreacher to be particularly cooperative, so we need to ensure he hears all our rules clearly before we do anything else. Is that clear?" Remus said. Harry nodded curtly.

"Kreacher!" Sirius suddenly called out.

A long moment passed. Shifting in his seat, Sirius opened his mouth to say something else when-

-a popping noise announced the arrival of a house elf. Kreacher was old and haggard, face contorted in a perpetual frown. He stared in surprise at Sirius, which promptly became a glare.

"The  _ foul _ master has returned." He moaned, seemingly to himself. "The mistress will be  _ so  _ disappointed. Kreacher must-"

"Kreacher, be silent!" Sirius barked out.

The irritable house elf scowled.

Sirius concentrated on his parchment. "Kreacher, as I am your master, so is my godson, Harry James Potter. You are to answer him as you answer to me, unless our commands conflict, then you must defer to me." He said.

Kreacher twitched involuntarily in acknowledgement, but that was all they needed.

"Now you must listen to Remus Lupin. What he commands you, you will obey as it is my word and will." Sirius said.

Again, the faintest of nods. Sirius closed his eyes, breathing deeply to calm himself; seeing and listening to Kreacher had brought back more unpleasant memories than he'd expected.

"Kreacher." Remus commanded loudly. Kreacher's head swivelled malevolently to fix it's gaze on him. "Whenever Harry James Potter commands you, or asks for your aid in any matter, these are the rules laid down by Sirius Black that you must follow when carrying out his requests…"

What followed was a seemingly exhaustive list of rules, regulations and instructions, but they all seemed to have a singular purpose: to prevent deliberate misinterpretation of instructions given. With each one added, Kreacher's scowl grew deeper and deeper, seemingly impossibly so. Harry saw something cross his face as, on the list of rules, he was forbidden from returning to grimmauld place without prior consent from Sirius. It was brief, but Harry thought he may have seemed saddened somehow. Then he was back to looking angry.

By the end of it, Harry was quite the elf was about to do a Rumpelstiltzkin and explode himself in fury.

"...is that all understood? Tell me that you do." Remus asked firmly.

".. _.yes _ ." Kreacher ground out.

Remus turned to Harry. "Harry, can you ask Kreacher to perform a simple task? Just get him to fetch something."

Harry felt rather sorry for the elf at this point; though evidently there was some history he was ignorant of between the elf and his godfather. "Um, Kreacher, can you bring me a spoon?"

Sirius lifted his head from his meditation just a touch, to peer at the elf. He knew from experience that a command like this could easily be misconstrued by a particularly vindictive elf. Harry didn't ask for a spoon to eat with, so it could be dirty, or even cursed.

Kreacher stood still a long moment, seemingly filtering the list of rules through his head. Eventually, his gaze scanned the room, and he crossed it, checking the drawers for one bearing cutlery. He took out a teaspoon, and came back across the room and offered it to Harry. Harry took it, and thanked him politely. Sirius frowned behind him, and Remus threw him a dirty look. Fortunately Harry missed it.

"Thank you, Harry. You can tell him to go help in Hogwarts, now." Remus said to him.

Harry was lost in his thoughts. "Oh? Um, right. You can go help the Hogwarts elves now, if you'd like, Kreach-"

The elf was already gone. Harry could not say that he could blame him.

Sirius let out a deep sigh, and stood up, stretching. "Sorry about that, Harry. If you're ever in trouble, you can call for him. He's not a nice elf, as you may have gathered."

"Why not?" Harry asked.

Sirius looked to Remus. "Sirius' family were… not nice people, Harry. They believed and did all sorts of horrible things; dark magic, blood supremacy, scorn for muggles, most other magical beings, everyone that wasn't one of them. Kreacher picked up on it so he's much the same; Sirius did not have a happy home life, and Kreacher was a contributory factor to that while his masters were Sirius' parents." He explained.

Harry had known Sirius' family were fairly horrible, but the thought of a house elf being included like that was pretty bizarre.

At that moment, the door opened and Hagrid came in. "Hullo, I'm back, everyone! How'd it go, then?" He asked, removing his boots.

"Pretty well, all things considered." Remus said. "You?"

"Ah, well, just makin' a small report to Dumbledore. Dunno what it means, though."

After that, they all settled in for a nice, long chat for the evening. Harry got to know Remus much better, as they all reminisced about bygone days

~~~

A gentle light flickered into being over Harry's sidetable. His expression was grit in determination as he cast the  _ lumos  _ silently. It was very faint, but all he needed was to read the clock. It was approaching 11:30; he'd better make his move.

Harry slipped out of bed, already wearing some casual wear that would be sufficient for his excursion. His cloak was lying ready at the top of his trunk. He threw it on as he approached the window and slid it open as gently as he could.

" _ Harry? _ " Asked a quiet voice. " _ Where have you gone? _ "

Harry had tried to avoid disturbing her, sleeping on the bed with him, but alas.

" _ I need to meet Malfoy. I shouldn't be too long. _ " He whispered to her, lowering the hood so she could see and smell him.

She disappeared out of Harry's sight in the gloom, when he suddenly felt her ascending his legs.

" _ I'm coming with you. _ " She hissed in a tone that brokered no arguing.

Harry silently raised his hood again over them both as he crept out the window, placing a few sticks in it as he lowered it to ensure he could get back in. He quietly explained the encounter with Malfoy and the note to Ashe as he crossed the grounds. They went silent as he reached a smaller entrance door and creaked it open.

Slinking through the corridors, Harry marvelled at the castle at night; he had, of course, seen it empty before, but very rarely at night. The moon was especially bright tonight, and it lit the castle in a shimmering pale grey.

Bringing Ashe proved a good idea when she detected Filch on the other side of a door Harry was about to open. Gratefully, Harry withdrew and took a detour to get where he wanted to.

As he neared his destination, he pulled the cloak off and wrapped it round him underneath his outer layers. What good was an invisibility cloak if everyone knew you had it?

" _ I can smell him. _ " Ashe whispered imperceptibly, and she also withdrew underneath to hide, as was the plan.

Harry rounded the last corner into the corridor with the rusty armour; just this one suit resisted the attempts of the elves to polish it further. It was a useful and amusing enough peculiarity that none of the professors had made any serious attempt to figure out why and dispel it.

It was a bit darker in here, so Harry struggled to see as easily. He wasn't foolish enough to cast  _ lumos _ though.

"Malfoy? Are you there?" Harry whispered as loudly as he dare, hoping it would go unheard beyond this corridor.

"Yes, I am here, Potter." Came the hushed reply, as a black figure stood up from where it had been hiding, crouched by the suit of armour. Malfoy lowered the hood of his near-black covering robes as he drew close.

He proceeded to stand there awkwardly, seemingly unsure what to do now he was in this position.

"You didn't actually expect me to show up, did you?" Harry said.

Malfoy just looked down at his feet. Harry allowed him a moment to collect himself, though why on earth he needed to was beyond Harry.

"Are- are you the heir of Slytherin?" Malfoy eventually spat out.

"Erm… what?" Harry asked.

"Bur you must be!" Malfoy urged. "Only an heir of his could be a parselmouth!"

Harry said nothing a moment, struck dumb. "How-"

"I heard you. Don't know what you were speaking to, but you were when I was at the gamekeeper's having my owl tended to." Malfoy explained.

"My  _ dad's _ , Hagrid's. He has a name, you know." Harry said, mildly annoyed.

"Um, well, yes. I intended no offense. Hagrid's…" The word rolled slowly off his tongue. "Anyway, you obviously are one. So you  _ must _ be the heir."

Harry went quiet. Must he be? Is  _ that _ why he was nearly in Slytherin's house? Harry thought a moment.

"I don't know, honestly. But if I am… what's it to you, anyway?" Harry asked Malfoy.

"Well, as a member of the esteemed Slytherin house, it should be obvious that allying myself with the heir apparent would be… advantageous?" He explained.

Harry folded his arms, giving Malfoy a shrewd look. "And why should I want to? You made your distaste for me and my current 'allies' quite clear."

Malfoy folded his arms in turn, raising his head loftily. "Such petty disagreements can be moved past in the name of forging a mutually beneficial alliance."

"Mutual… what do I gain?" Harry asked, dropping his arms again.

"For now, I will cease my negative treatment of you and your friends." You'd basically done that already, Harry thought to himself. "But the Malfoy name has not insignificant political and financial leverage. I could help you there when I take my father's place; we could do great things together."

Harry was rather surprised that Malfoy was  _ this _ forward thinking. "I don't know anything about politics."

"There's a limit to what I know, too, but father will coach me when I am of age. What I  _ do _ know is that I will have some influence. Come to think if it, Longbottom should, too. That could be useful…" Malfoy seemed to be lost in thought at his own aspirations.

It had a certain appeal, Harry thought. It could prove useful in the unknown future; he didn't yet know what he really wanted to do. But for now, it seemed prudent to keep on Malfoy's good side anyway.

"Alright then." Harry said confidently, extending a hand forward.

For all his confident posturing, Malfoy seemed suddenly surprised. He reached forward himself, hesitating a moment, staring at the hand, before grabbing it suddenly. A strangely genuine smile came to Malfoy's face, before it was hidden again.

He breathed out a nervous breathe. "Well, now that that's done, there was something in particular on my mind." He mused.

Harry questioned him with a look.

"I thought perhaps we could try to find the chamber of secrets." Said Malfoy. "We'd be famous! Such a discovery would set us in good stead."

Harry shook his head. "I explored Hogwarts a lot during the holidays and never found anything; what makes you think we can find it now?"

Harry did not hear Malfoy's response, as Ashe tightened around him. " _ I smell the caretaker. _ " She hissed. Malfoy suddenly went quiet as he heard the hissing noise.

As if on cue, Harry saw the faintest glimmer of candlelight appear on the wall at the end of the corridor. Malfoy saw it too, and raised his hood, and made to run, before Harry grabbed him. "Trust me." He whispered harshly and quickly, as he pulled out the loosely tied invisibility cloak from his waist, and threw it over them as he pressed up to Malfoy, who squirmed a little. They sidled back to the wall at Harry's indications. Harry shushed Malfoy as faintly as he could, before he could say anything.

At this point, Malfoy seemed to understand what was going on, and lay still, as he eyed the veneer of fabric before them. He also looked sidelong at the serpent, her head now poking out of Harry's neckline.

At that point, the light suddenly grew much brighter, and they heard loud steps as Filch, believing himself unnoticed, suddenly charged down the corridor, rounding the corner and staring down past the rows of armour. His mouth opened, but his cry was stifled as he saw the empty corridor.

"Definitely 'eard something…" He muttered to himself. He trod closer with surprising stealth, and the boys could make out his leering scowl as he came within view. Like a dog trying to find a scent, he eyed the armour and the floor in turn, looking this way and that in pursuit if his quarry. "Didn't hear 'em running…" He continued in his musings.

He began peering behind each and every suit of armour. The hidden boys sidled behind a piece of armour he had just looked behind, so as to avoid being in the space he put himself into next. He also began flipping open the visors and peering inside.

As he leaned close to inspect the next, rusted suit, it suddenly lashed out with a loud clatter, making Filch reel and shriek in surprise. Filch was quick to regain his senses, however, and began battling with the suit.

"Damn you, you wretched thing…!" He shouted under his breathe, growling angrily as he tried to wrest the armour under control, whilst the armour did everything possible to resist.

Meanwhile, Harry and Malfoy made their exit whilst Filch was distracted, both trying desperately not to burst out laughing. They tried to get far out of earshot before they couldn't help but stop and have a giggling fit, allowing the cloak to slip as they parted some. Eventually, they calmed down and regained their breathe, Harry stroking Ashe idly. " _ Thanks. _ " Harry told her.

"I assume the parseltongue is to be kept secret?" Malfoy asked.

"At least for now." Harry said.

"Anyway, what I was trying to say earlier was that, well, now you have an actual slytherin, I could help to find it." Malfoy said.

Harry nodded; it only made sense. Besides, Harry had never made a really concerted attempt to actually discover the chamber itself. He'd also been younger, ignorant and unable to cast real spells, any of which could make a difference.

"Alright, then." Harry said. "We can meet another night to look for it. But for now, maybe we should get back to bed?"


	16. Chapter 16

Professor Snape was up early that morning. He sipped his coffee whilst observing the depressed leeches. Lowly creatures though they were, he could not help but pity them.

They were cursed, having drank unicorn blood.

Combined with Hagrid's report to Dumbledore yesterday, it was clear that the Quirrell/Voldemort hybrid had used them to obtain himself lasting supplies of blood; leeches were naturally able to preserve blood in a useful state longer than conventional containers.

It could only be assumed that coercion, likely in the form of  _ imperio _ , had been used on the leeches. He supposed he should be pleased this was as far as the dark lord's victims went.

He was not, however, pleased that now he was up early. Well, being up early is not a problem, it's more the reason why. What  _ is _ a problem is having to tell Black that he has an invitation to a professorial position. Dumbledore wanted to be sure he caught him before he had a chance to leave for whatever the day's business would be. Snape downed the dregs of his coffee and left swiftly.

~~~

Snape was still distracted by thoughts of having nearly tripped on a rusted suit of armour that was spread across the floor (he'd have to complain to Filch about that) when he arrived at the hut. He knocked lightly on the door and waited. Then a bit sharper. Still nothing.

Must still be asleep.

Thinking, he sidled around to Harry's bedroom window. He noted a few of the thestrals staring at him. He stared back before ignoring them and gently rapping on Harry's window. In the quiet of the morning, he could make out the rustling of linens before the curtain drew and he saw Harry looking about curiously, before he saw Snape and had a look of surprise. He opened the window, rubbing his eyes and yawning.

"...good morning, sir?" He queried.

"Morning, Harry. Could you please let me in? I do not wish to disturb your compatriots just yet, but I do need to speak with… Mr. Black." Snape said.

Harry nodded and trotted away, whilst Snape turned into a thestral, face inches away from his own.

He spluttered as he sidestepped the wretched creature, which merely gazed at him as he made for the front door, and slunk in. Blasted things.

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he had to keep from spluttering openly again. Black and…  _ Lupin _ were sleeping together on the floor.

His mind raced unpleasantly before Harry interrupted his thoughts.

"Are you ok, sir?" He whispered.

The professor nodded mutely, and took a seat. Harry excused himself to get washed and ready for the day.

For goodness sake, calm down, Snape thought to himself. It is not a full moon for a few nights yet, and it's the day anyway. Irrationality was very high on Snape's list of dislikes.

No, he should find this situation amusing, instead. The sight of the two men cuddled up together would be excellent material to needle them over.

He still wasn't sure how to approach Black; he still felt like he hated him, but at this point their feud was older than Harry was since they had even seen one another. Looking at the evident lines of Azkaban in Black's face, he thought it likely Black had other, much more pressing concerns. And woe betide Snape if he were to be seen as the immature one.

He was still angry at Black for his foolishness involving Lupin, but maybe ten years of Azkaban was punishment enough, seeing as he was innocent of the actual accused crime. And he supposed… Black probably didn't intend to actually kill him, after all was said and done. Snape sighed internally at the unwanted realisation.

He supposed it would be reasonable to temper himself to whatever level of vitriol Black did; yes, that seemed fair.

As he came to this conclusion, Harry hurried past, towel clad, to his bedroom. The disturbance caused the two men on the floor to begin to stir.

Snape quietly spelled himself a cup of water as he watched Lupin open his eyes, widening a bit in surprise as he realised his position with Sirius. Then he rolled over and his eyes clapped open on Snape.

"...good morning, Lupin." He said, sipping his water delicately.

"Um… good morning… Severus?"

Black was beginning to stir, too. "Bloody hell, Moony, it's too early, lemme sleep more…" He murmured as he began to roll over, pulling the furs over him.

"Good morning, Black." Snape said rather loudly, continuing to sip casually.

Black shrieked as he reversed and sat up, gawping at Snape. Snape smiled wryly at him.

"I suppose I should leave you a moment to get dressed, but I  _ am _ here to speak with you." He said simply, as he exited the front door again, leaving it ajar as he waited a few moments, before going back in. Black, Lupin and Harry were, thankfully, all dressed as they tidied up the bed pile. Hagrid also emerged from his own room.

"Oh! Mornin' Perfesser Snape!" He said. "What brings you 'ere, yer want anythin'?"

"No thank you, Hagrid, I already helped myself to some water. Though I will take some more of Ashe's leavings with me, since I am here." He retook his seat at the table. "I primarily am here to speak to Black."

Hagrid retrieved some jars from the cupboards for Snape. The other three all turned to look at Snape. It was a little bit awkward, Snape thought. Having water to drink was helpful, though.

"I gather you kept an eye on Wormtail when he was caught, so… thanks for that." Said Black.

Nodding his acknowledgement, Snape finished his cup of water. He was desperate to make some sort of retort, but Black was clearly trying. And besides, Harry was there; it would not do for adults to air their dirty laundry in front of a child. Maybe a very minor jab, though.

"Taught Harry any inappropriate spells yet?"

"You wound me, Snape." Black said, mockingly. "Not 'til I get a new wand, at any rate."

"I take it Hagrid has already offered his services?" Snape asked.

"Wouldn' take no fer an answer." Hagrid said, placing the jars on the table. "Been meanin' ter get started today, anyway. Just been a bit bogged down with chores; so much needs cuttin' back and tidyin' at the moment."

"Indeed. Well, as it happens, Hagrid, replacing Black's wand is now a priority;" Snape took out some parchment from his robes, handing it to Black, who took them cautiously "Professor Dumbledore would like you to take on the defence professor position, Black; that is merely the formal invitation."

Black looked at it, wide eyed, skimming it over. "Bloody hell, really?"

Lupin hit him. Harry laughed, excited.

"This is so cool! Bet I'm going to learn all sorts of inappropriate spells now!"

"Spare me." Snape moaned. "Dumbledore is also confident he can remove the curse on the position, now."

Everyone looked at Snape then. "Don't ask me how, he hasn't told me. But he seems confident on finding the source of it."

Black looked to Lupin. "Well, I definitely need you now." He said.

"Yes, I can imagine how you need Teddy Lupin after a long, trying day of encouraging brats to hex each other." He drawled seriously.

Harry burst out laughing. Lupin looked mildly embarrassed, and all Black could do was glare menacingly at Snape, before looking down at Harry.

"How could you betray me like this, Harry?" He whined.

Harry wiped his eyes, still giggling. "Are you  _ not _ going to make us brats hex each other?"

Sometimes silence was the best answer.

"Anyway, I really must take my leave. Thank you, Hagrid," Snape said as he scooped up the jars "and I shall let Dumbledore know that you accept, just as soon as you are wand ready. Fare you all well." He nodded politely, as he swept out the door.

"Was Snape just… nice-ish?" Black asked the room in surprise.

"It 'as been ten odd years, Sirius. 'E's alroight, really." Said Hagrid. "Come on, le's all 'ave some breakfast, then Oi'll get on with yer wand!"

~~~

"...so your godfather's going to be our new defence professor? Why him?" Neville asked as the students left the castle, on their way to the greenhouses for Herbology.

"He was an auror." Harry said, which was explanation in and of itself.

"Isn't he worried about the curse?" Ron asked. "Quirrell just left. Bit weird, that."

"Apparently Dumbledore might've found a way to get rid of it."

"I hope so; Percy's always moaning about how hard defence is because of it."

"Are you all right, Hermione? You seem a bit quiet." Neville asked her.

"Just thinking about that house elf you mentioned… well, all elves, really. It feels a bit wrong, doesn't it? Having a… a slave, like that?"

"I asked dad about it once." Said Harry. "It is a bit weird, but they seem to want to do what they do; they always get very sad if you try to free them. It's the biggest punishment for when they do a bad job. I mean, if they wanted to leave, there's not much a wizard can do to stop them, they can apparate even through wards."

"But has anyone ever asked them why?" Hermione said, a bit exasperated; this reaction to elves seemed rather common amongst muggleborns. The more ignorant put it down to jealousy.

"Dunno." Said Ron. "Maybe you can ask one of the castle elves later?"

~~~

With not long before curfew, the four headed back to the castle from Hagrid's hut, where they had spent much of the afternoon.

"He's definitely an… inspired choice." Said Hermione.

"Are you kidding, he's wicked! I bet he'll chase McGonagall around as Padfoot!" Ron said excitedly.

"There is no way he's that stupid… is there?"

"Sure hope so, it would be hilarious."

They veered off behind a copse on the way up, and huddled together. Harry pulled out his cloak, and it drew looks of awe, now they knew what it was

"Is there really no better way? I don't want to break the rules…" Hermione complained.

"The elves won't answer students trying to summon them, so this is the best you've got if you want to see them." Ron said. He had overheard the twins before mentioning late night snacks direct from the kitchens, so they had gotten the low down from them under an oath of secrecy.

Hermione sighed. "I really  _ do _ want to know, so I guess I have to." She lamented.

"We'll see you later, then." Neville said, as Harry draped his cloak over himself and Hermione. Neville and Ron waited so as not to get in the way as the invisible duo made their way through the still open door, hugging walls to avoid the few errant students making their way to their own houses.

They tailed the last couple of Hufflepuffs they saw, until they found the entrance to that house. Following the directions given, they followed the corridor around from there and down a couple more, leaving behind the last of the wandering students as curfew time passed. As they wandered, Mrs Norris darted out unseen from the shadows, and they brushed past her by mistake. She mewled angrily, looking this way and that, trying to find what brushed her up the wrong way; Harry and Hermione hesitated only briefly before quickly getting away.

Eventually they found what they were looking for: a spacious corridor where all the paintings were themed around food.

A cornucopia of delectable delights were a feast for the eyes: a steaming haggis, freshly broken eggs, a basket of mushrooms, herbs hung to dry, all sorts were artistically rendered. In particular though, a large painting of a fruit bowl sat low down on the wall; this was their destination.

Checking the coast was clear, Harry reached out to the painting and tickled a pear that lay outside the silver bowl. Harry pulled the cloak off them as the painting opened to reveal a doorway, into which the two scrambled quickly.

The painting shut behind them as they looked in wonder at the Hogwarts kitchens: long, low tables were lined with elves, cleaning, chopping and mashing ingredients. A giant cauldron at least as big as a bath sat on a huge fire, gently simmering.

The few elves nearest them stopped what they were doing and bustled over excitedly.

"What is young master and mistress be wanting? We has baked many treats!" The one at the front said.

"Oh, well, thank you very much!" Hermione said. "But actually, we came to ask you something-"

"Is mistress being born to muggles?" A different elf asked.

Caught by surprise, Hermione could only nod dumbly.

The elf shook her head and tutted. "We is  _ always _ being asked silly questions by yous. We elves is happiest when working!" She exclaimed.

Another elf said "Elves is leaving if want or need, but is not wanting to."

Hermione still couldn't shake her concerns. "But wouldn't you rather work for yourselves? Why do you want to?"

The elves all looked at each other rather seriously. "Why is elf secret, for elves only." The elf said again. "Wizards we is serving must give food and home, so is fair."

Hermione had expected more of a discussion with them, but they seemed firm. Evidently, this wasn't the first time someone had questioned the lives of the house elves either. "Well, thank you for telling me." She bowed gently, the elves returning much deeper ones. "Sorry to have disturbed you…"

"Mistress is not to be worrying!" Said the second elf, "Elves is appreciating concern all the same! A good wizard, or witch, is taking good care of elves in turn." The elves all audibly agreed with this sentiment, murmurs of Headmaster Dumbledore's greatness between them.

Nodding their thanks again, they made to leave when the elves plied them with freshly baked cinnamon and chocolate rolls. They took a few for them and their friends, and tried to leave again when-

"Young master, a moment please!"

A very aged elf came up to them, the others parting to let him through. His eyes were pale and white, his ears long and drooping.

"You are being Kreacher's master, yes?" He asked.

"Uh, yes, I'm Harry. Who are you?"

"I is Wilby, young sir." The elf said, staring at them strangely.

"Is something wrong?" Harry asked, concerned; he had not thought that there would be a problem with Kreacher working here.

Wilby looked thoughtful. "Mmm. Kreacher is good worker, if being… old fashioned. I is concerned that he is most upset."

"Upset? Like… sad?"

Wilby nodded gravely.

"Alright, well, thank you, Wilby." Wilby bowed. "I'll ask him tomorrow what's wrong." Harry said.

"Your kindness is appreciated, young master…" He tilted his head as if listening to something. "Put on your hiding cloak." He said simply. With a confused look at Hermione, Harry threw the cloak over them, as Wilby went to the back of the painting and pushed it open. They followed him out, only to find him stood before Filch, bidding him a good evening. They froze, before quietly making their way around him and away down the corridor.

"Seen any students out of bed? Mrs Norris is most upset." Filch said angrily.

"Wilby is seeing no one, sir." The old elf said matter of factly.

"Rrr…" Filch growled. "Let me know if you do!" He ordered, before marching off down the corridor.

Looking back, Harry and Hermione saw Wilby staring strangely at them again, before winking and and bowing before making his way back into the kitchens.

Eventually they reached the painting if the fat lady. Harry crept right up close to the canvas, practically pressing his face up against it, suddenly calling out "Ron!" as close to the canvas as he could before stepping back quickly. She woke with an ugly shriek and looked about huffily, as she opened from behind.

"Who's there?" She demanded.

"Just me, Ron." Ron said, pushing her wide open. "Did you hear something?"

"I… no, no I didn't!" She flustered.

"Oh, alright. Night, then!" He called, easing the painting back shut.

"Same to you." Ron heard, as the painting closed before him. He left and went back to his dorm room to find both Neville and Harry in bed. Ron opted to do the same, bidding Harry goodnight, who murmured it back as Ron slunk under his duvet, and quickly was off to sleep.

~~~

Harry awoke a little early the next morning. Maybe eating all the confectionary on the way back to the dorms had been a bad idea; he certainly wasn't hungry for breakfast. Before long, Ron and Neville both were up too.

"So, what did they say?" Asked Neville, after they had all woken up properly.

"Not enough for Hermione, I don't think." Said Harry. "They seem really secretive about why, but assured us that they are happy doing what they do. They wouldn't say anything else, though."

"Sounds about right."

"Well, I'm going for breakfast now. You guys coming?" Ron asked them.

"I'm really not hungry." Harry said as Neville nodded. "I'll catch up with you guys later!"

After they left, Harry sat and mulled over what the elves had said, Wilby in particular. Kreacher was upset about something? Harry supposed he should at least try to ask; it was the least he could for Wilby for covering for them, if Kreacher himself was undeserving.

The room was quiet and empty. This was probably the only time it would be.

"Kreacher!" Harry called out, quietly.

A few moments later, the elf appeared with a faint pop. He scowled miserably, but otherwise said nothing.

"Is something the matter?" Harry asked him.

"Nothing is being 'the matter',  _ master _ ." Kreacher drew out reluctantly.

Still going to be difficult, Harry thought. More direct questions, then.

"Are you sad?"

The barest of nods gave Kreacher away, never dropping his scowl.

"Why?"

Clearly, Kreacher did not want to say; his face contorted as he tried to think of a way to evade the question. Eventually, he gasped out "Kreacher is… having things left behind."

"At the old Black house?"

A simple nod, again.

"...okay, thank you, Kreacher. You can go n-"

He popped away.

Harry sat down on the bed to think it over. Kreacher was upset because his personal possessions were stuck somewhere he was forbidden to go. An elf would not have many, so they must be of sentimental value.

Maybe he could ask Sirius to let him in on a one time proviso to fetch them; it would save Remus clearing them up anyway.

Either way, it would have to wait til later. He had potions first this morning, and keeping Professor Snape waiting was not wise.

~~~

Charms class went pretty well for everyone that day. Even Ron managed to turn his own hair a dark brown, and Professor Flitwick was very impressed; red hair usually presented the most trouble to charm correctly.

So it was they were all in a good mood as they headed to lunch. Above the throng of students heading towards the hall, Harry could see the somewhat messy black hair of Sirius above them. Looked like he'd tried to tame it a little bit.

"Hey, Sirius!" Harry called out. Sirius turned, spotted him, and made his way over through the thinning crowd as it left them behind.

"Hello there, Harry! Is this entourage your friends? Let's see… you must be Neville!" He said, pointing at Hermione, "Ron!" He pointed at Neville, "and Hermione!" He finished, pointing at Ron. Ron looked decidedly unimpressed.

"It's a, um, pleasure to meet you, Mr. Black!" Hermione said, holding a hand out. Sirius took it.

"Likewise, Longbottom… I mean, Hermione!" Sirius smiled. He exchanged proper greetings with the others in turn.

"What are you doing here, Sirius?" Harry asked him.

"As of tomorrow, I shall be  _ Professor _ Black!" He announced proudly. "So I was just sorting things out with Dumbledore; we still have a lot more to sort out after lunch. Being a teacher is going to be a little harder than I thought!"

"That's brilliant! And you have us tomorrow, too!" Harry proclaimed excitedly.

"I'm rather glad, honestly. You can help break me in a bit."

"What are you going to teach us?" Asked Hermione.

"Well, I shall have an introductory lesson with all the different classes this week, before trying to pick up where Quirrell left off. If that's even worth doing, I don't get the best impression from Dumbledore, honestly."

"He did seem a bit nervous of everything." Said Neville. "Took ages to actually learn anything."

"Left just in time, too, I'm sure Fred and George were going to try and prank his turban off…" Said Ron.

"Ron!" Hermione chastised.

"What? I didn't say  _ I  _ was going to!"

This continued as they headed to the great hall. As the others went in, Harry stopped short, remembering something, grabbing Sirius' sleeve to stop him.

"Hm?" Sirius questioned.

"Kreacher says he left some things behind at your old house."

"...and?"

"I was wondering if he could go and get them."

Sirius bit down the initial urge to tell Harry to take a hike. Sirius admonished himself for the vitriol he felt; Harry hardly deserved it. More rationally, it would make Lupin's life easier to reduce what rubbish needed sorting.

Sirius sighed deeply. "Yes, yes, I suppose. He can go in tomorrow and take whatever belongs to him, and that ruddy painting if he does not wish to see it destroyed. Then he's banned from the house again. Will that do?"

"Uh… yeah, thanks, Sirius." Harry said softly.

Sighing again, Sirius said "Look, Harry, that elf contributed to my misery in my youth, so forgive me if I am… unpleasant."

Harry seemed to understand, nodding vigorously. He smiled as Sirius ruffled his hair.

"Go on, get your lunch, lad!" He said, following Harry in and splitting off for the staff table.

A few murmurs began going round the room at the sight of Sirius taking a place next to Dumbledore at the largely bare staff table; many teachers preferred to use their lunch hour for work and only a quick bite delivered by the elves.

The chat began to die down again, most of the students realising they'd get a proper announcement later when everyone was here, lunch being a much more casual affair of students popping in and out at whim. However, Fred and George had had the luxury of speaking to Harry's friends.

"...next thing you know, Professor Snape will be his uncle!" Harry overheard Fred saying as he took his spot at the dinner table.

Harry rolled his eyes as he filled his plate up.

"Think he'll appreciate some inaugurational pranking?" George said. "We never did get Quirrel's turban off."

"Maybe Professor Black would like if we put one on him instead?" Said Fred.

Harry tried to hide a sly grin. They quickly cottoned on, though.

"Whazzat about, then?" They chimed in unison.

"Just that Professor Black was not unlike yourselves when  _ he _ was a student. He shall probably give as good as he gets."

This only resulted in broad grins on their faces. "Well, if he's game-"

"-we are!"

"Yeah, just so long as you don't drag me into this." Ron moaned. "It was bad enough getting hexed by Percy when you made me help prank him."

"I can't believe how many rules are going to get broken." Hermione lamented to herself; trying to argue with them was futile.

Neville leaned in to whisper to her. "Don't worry, they'll learn the hard way when Professor Black gets them back."

~~~

Harry brightly anticipated Sirius' (or more properly, Professor Black's) first lesson as they all made their way to the defence classroom following breakfast.

In the back of Harry's mind was his short conversation with Kreacher that morning; he hadn't said much, but Harry saw an unusual expression on Kreacher's face before he popped away to collect his things. Relief, perhaps?

Either way, they all hurried into the room and sat down eagerly. Harry had hoped they'd end up in a different room as his head always hurt in this one for some reason. Maybe a more exciting teacher that Quirrell would prove more distracting.

~~~

Professor Black fingered his new wand with no small degree of excitement as he neared his classroom. He stopped outside to collect himself, looking at it again; cerberus heartstring and dogwood, an exhausted looking Hagrid had told him after he'd destroyed a stubborn weed patch at Hagrid's bidding. Hagrid had still been stubborn about taking any sort of payment until Sirius reminded him he had a new wand to threaten him with now

It was a powerful moment, Sirius truly starting to feel whole and returned to normality. A real life without any darkness lingering over or ahead him, for the first time in his life. The lightness and freedom bubbled up inside him, as he took it with him into the classroom and directed the feeling into enthusiasm.

"Good morning class!" He declared as he strode to the front centre of the room. He took up a chalk and wrote on the board.

"I am Professor Black…" he finished and turned around. "And I am your new defence against the dark arts instructor. Headmaster Dumbledore thinks he can remove the curse, so with any luck you'll be stuck with me and get a bit more of a consistent schedule. Anyway!" He clapped his hands together loudly, startling anyone to attention who wasn't already paying it. "I think I'd like to start with a thought exercise. I gather you should have covered some dark or otherwise dangerous creatures with Professor Quirrell. Someone choose one for me, hands please." He glanced over the mixed Gryffindor-Slytherin class. "You there, miss…?"

"Bulstrode, sir." The tall Slytherin girl answered.

"Right, Bulstrode. Your creature?"

"A… troll?"

"Excellent, yes, what kind, have you thought?"

"Oh, um, mountain. A mountain troll, sir."

"Thank you, Bulstrode." The professor said, turning again to the board and hashing out a likeness of a cave troll for all to see. A flick of his wand animated the drawing, which now stood stupidly, written text appearing whenever it grunted or snorted.

"Hey look, it's Dean!" A Gryffindor student exclaimed, to the amusement of the class.

The chalk troll's face promptly became that of the loudmouthed student.

"Hey!"

"Well, if you don't like it, mr-?"

"Finnegan."

"-Finnegan, then you ought not to dish it out." The troll's face returned to its original one.

"Right then, class. You are faced by this dangerous creature. You must defend yourself from it, can I have some suggestions as to actions or spells?"

Various hands went up eagerly. "You, Weasley?" Sirius pointed.

"Uh, wingardium leviosa?"

Sirius hmed. "A troll is a bit heavy for most wizards to pull off a levitator charm on it…"

"No, just on his club!" Ron exclaimed, making his intention clear."

"Ah! Much more reasonable, and quite clever. Have a point, Weasley." The professor jabbed his wand at the chalkboard, where the drawing demonstrated the club floating away. "The troll itself  _ is  _ still dangerous, but he is effectively disarmed. And stupid enough to be easily distracted." The chalk troll was looking upwards stupidly after the club. The club then dropped on it's head, prompting more laughter. "Expelliarmus would also be effective at disarming. Right, another!"

Sirius went through several students, offering points for clever spells. Tripping jinxes, stinging hexes, and even unpleasant smells and sounds were offered to try to ward the troll off. The drawing looked a bit worse for wear at this point after all the abuse.

The class began to slow down, but the professor seemed to be waiting for a particular answer. Carefully, a Slytherin student raised a hand. Sirius had noticed Malfoy earlier, the resemblance to his father strong. He had already by this point come to terms with the children of (former) death eaters as his students; Dumbledore had explicitly brought it up, but Sirius had already to the conclusion himself that pushing the sins of the father on them was not going to help anyone if they did not want to retread history. Dumbledore had been pleased.

"Ah, Malfoy is it? What do you think?" He asked.

Uncertainly, Malfoy said "Can't we just, um… run away?"

Some mild tittering went round the class, but Sirius raised a hand to stop it. "Five points, Malfoy." He said, clearly pleased, as the chalk troll faded away. "I asked you all to  _ defend _ yourselves from this troll, and there is no better way to do that than to simply avoid it in the first place. Better to run and live than get yourself killed for no good reason. You all did a good job distracting the troll, and many of these tricks would be good to enable your flight. Avoiding danger should always be your first line of defence. Alright?" Sirius said. The class murmured their agreement.

"Very good. No, clear your desks away, we need to make some space for some practical work. Hurry up!" The professor said jovially. Excited but uncertain, the students began pushing their desks up against the walls.

Sirius listened carefully to the whispers as the students complied. "No, you won't be running laps, that's Hooch's territory. Alright, done? Oh, and out in those white robes while you're at it."

The students turned to see a stack of thin white robes had appeared in the desks. They all slipped one on in confusion. Meanwhile, Sirius went to the corner of the room and wheeled over a large animal cage hidden beneath a sheet. He whisked it off to reveal…

"Behold, the terrifying  _ gnomes! _ " Sirius shouted with glee. The wizarding children laughed, eventually joined by the muggle raised who had been initially unsure of how to react.

"Yes, yes. Now, all of you spread out across the room… that's it… we shall be using these gnomes as surrogate attackers for a bit of practice. I'm going to charm them to be a bit more aggressive than usual. And, like the troll, they may be armed." Sirius indicated the stones and sticks that the gnomes shared a cage with. "Also note that they have been eating an assortment of brightly coloured berries; blackberries, raspberries, that sort of thing." A gentle light from the professor's wand highlighted how the hands, feet and mouths of the gnomes were stained and dripping. "I will be awarding twenty points to the student who has the least stains at the end of this exercise."

The students murmured apprehensively as Sirius took aim at the cage, swirling his wand with the glow of a suggestion charm. He then proceeded to shove the cage into the centre of the room with a kick, then promptly disappeared the cage.

Pandemonium ensued as everyone fled the gnomes, which pursued, growling angrily. Eventually, the spells began as the students collected themselves from the surprise attack. The gnomes howled as they were stung and tripped by various hexes.

Neville backed away from a gnome, his spells in his panic failing to dissuade the attacker. He glanced at the professor, who looked down at his own legs meaningfully. Neville was a good sized lad, and his punt to the face sent the gnome sprawling, giving him the chance to get away from it. "Good one, Longbottom." The professor called, as he strolled casually amd unperturbed through the melee, giving advice to other students.

Harry ducked beneath a flying gnome, only for it to splat into Goyle and begin a tussle. He darted forwards and away to see Malfoy trying to fend two off, rather ineptly. Unlike Ron, who he left behind to easily control his gnome troubles with Hermione. Ron was a well practiced hand at gnome management, aiding Hermione who was waving Neville over.

The detente with Malfoy was young yet, but maybe trying to prove a point couldn't hurt. Besides, Harry felt kind of sorry for him anyway. " _ Flipendo! _ " Harry cried, blasting the gnome behind Malfoy who span in surprise. "Come on!" Harry called, indicating his friends who were collectively beginning to mount an effective defence.

Thinking quickly, Malfoy levitated Goyle's gnome off of him, which was no small effort, before retreating along with Harry. The group backed up to a wall, fending off the gnomes from the front. Neville primarily noticed Malfoy joining them with a surprised look, but was more preoccupied with an especially fat gnome that just crawled towards him after he tripped it with a jinx.

Shortly thereafter, the freed Goyle followed Malfoy to the phalanx, followed naturally by Crabbe.

Other students began noticing the odd composition, but it wasn't long before more members from both houses decided that the combined defence was worth cosying up to another house a bit.

This effect snowballed until all the students had coalesced together at one end of the room, the combination of the wall and united front preventing any of the gnomes from getting close at all. This continued for a short while before the professor decided to call the exercise off.

"Enough!" He yelled loudly, dispelling the enchantment on the gnomes with a wave. He reconjured the cage, complete with fresh treats. It took no persuasion for the gnomes to file in, as Sirius locked it up.

He turned to the worried looking students, after he had yelled at them. But he broke out into a broad grin, giving them a couple of slow claps.

"Bravo, all of you. I must say, I am really impressed. Not only was it tactically sound, but back when I was a student, your two houses loathed each other; I am thrilled that you put that unimportant rivalry aside to face the real danger. If we had all had that attitude in the past, the Dark Lord would never have been the danger he was… fifty points to both Slytherin and Gryffindor, for a wonderful display of inter-house unity and cooperation. Class dismissed!"

~~~

"...and then he gave us all fifty points!" Harry said.

"Wha, each?" asked Hagrid.

"Well, to each house. So one hundred total."

"Guess 'e was feeling generous, firs' day an' all." Hagrid rose from the table to get himself some tea, the kettle howling; he'd charmed it as he found the usual high pitch screaming rather unpleasant.

It was just him and Harry this evening, Sirius having said he wanted to spend his first night as professor in his own quarters. Hagrid did not expect him to return anytime soon, however. Despite his reassurances to the contrary, he could still tell Sirius was deeply conscious about intruding in their space. So he was getting news of Sirius' first day from Harry.

"Oi'm surprised Malfoy didn't get upset or nothin'." Hagrid observed. "With the way 'e's bin, why 'elp 'im at all?"

"He spoke to me a couple of days ago and wanted to make a truce." Harry explained.

Hagrid came back with his tea and sat down. "Why's 'at, then?"

Harry flushed slightly, suddenly embarrassed that he might be caught out with something it suddenly occurred to him that his dad may not be pleased to hear. But it was too late now, though.

"He might, um, want me to help him find the chamber of secrets."

Years of parenting meant that even such an outlandish statement did not elicit an inappropriate reaction, thankfully. Hagrid looked at his son shrewdly. "Gonna need a but more of an explanation than tha'."

So Harry explained the situation with the note, the parseltongue, and so on. Though he omitted to mention the after hours nature of the meeting and the near run in with Filch; the last thing he wanted was for his cloak to be confiscated.

His dad sipped his tea idly, listening intently. "Well, tha's nice an' all. Water under the bridge an' all that. Weirdly forward thinking though, I mean, do ya even care 'bout politics?"

Harry shook his head.

"'Course not! But it can't hurt. Though do be careful with Malfoy, alright'?"

"Why's that?" Harry asked.

"His dad claimed to be under You Know Who's spell after you stopped him, as did many others. But he  _ might _ have jus' made that up so he didn't end up in Azkaban. So just… be careful."

"Okay, dad." Harry said, a bit surprised. Draco didn't seem anything like that. He might've been a git, but a follower of You Know Who? Draco wasn't  _ that _ bad.

"Oh, an' one more thing.  _ If _ you actually find this chamber, somehow… tell a teacher straight away. Don't go in. Ya understand? If it even exists, mind."

Harry wasn't sure Draco would agree with that, but… who knew. Maybe it wouldn't matter anyway, if like his dad said, the chamber even existed.


	17. Chapter 17

Several weeks went by as the weather began to warm, as they headed deeper into spring.

Malfoy continued to be quite nice and polite, occasionally lingering for conversation and even lunches once or twice, and his general demeanour seemed to improve on the whole; his initial boasting had hurt his popularity within his own house, so he had been sorely lacking in the positive socialising department (even Crabbe and Goyle were not really great friends of his, more acquaintances by virtue of their parents being friends). His own house reputation was a bit better now that he was less insufferable to them too. Harry wasn't sure he'd passed into 'friend' category yet, but he was getting there.

This afternoon the four Gryffindors were studying hard together on an especially difficult potions assignment in the library; they had been tasked with solving Minx's Conundrum of Volatile Components. Or MCVC for short, as even Hermione found reciting the phrase "Minx's Conundrum of Volatile Components" repeatedly extremely tedious, extremely quickly. The professor had suggested that some theory books would help them with putting it together.

Hermione was currently leading the charge through the texts, being the quickest reader of the group. However, she stopped when a shadow fell over her page.

"Is that  _ Arturi's Concoctioner's Review _ ? I couldn't find it on the shelves." Draco asked her.

She flipped up the cover to double check. "Yes, why? Are you-"

"Trying to do Snape's M-C-V-C work too? Yes, I wanted to get it done early myself." He looked at the spread of texts on the table, obviously all geared towards the same task. "Are you… working together?"

"Yeah, we usually do." Said Ron. "Quicker that way, and we help each other when we miss something. Wanna join us?"

Ron, having taken longest to warm up to Draco to any degree, surprised Harry with such an up front offer. Potions, unlike Draco, were not Ron's strong suit, however. Guess the help to get this done quicker was more valuable to Ron at this point than any lingering ill will towards Draco - their parents might not get on well, but Ron increasingly saw little reason to maintain hostility towards Draco himself. He wasn't even being rude to Hermione.

Draco seemed a bit surprised. He stood for a moment, before abruptly taking a seat.

He leaned over Hermione's pages, looking a bit unsure of himself. It was as if he hadn't really worked with anyone else before.

"Have you figured out the constant factor?" Draco asked. Hermione nodded, not taking her eyes off the page. "What about the inconstant, then?"

She looked up at him quizzically.

"I'll take that as a no then." He reached over and turned the pages some until he found what he was looking for. "Here's one, see?" He said, everyone stretching up for a look as he fingered the page. "You need it to balance out the constant factor, you see. But-"

Hermione snatched the pages back, flicking back to where she was. "I see, if we use that here…" She scribbled out some working on her own parchment. Draco watched with interest, understanding dawning on him.

"Oh,  _ that's _ where it goes. I always got stuck there."

"And we were all stuck with what the other factor was, so thanks, Draco." Said Ron.

Draco flushed slightly, evidently unused to receiving much praise at all. Harry felt a pang of sorrow for him; he could only guess at what his upbringing was like, but he shouldn't be so affected by something so slight.

~~~

As she grew, Ashe was becoming increasingly frustrated. She wasn't spending enough time with Harry; as a familiar, she felt a keen bond with her master and the prolonged absences were becoming increasingly stressful for her.

Hagrid was of the opinion that she needed to go to school with Harry at least sometimes in the near future. But, with Ashe obviously being a snake, this presented the problem of Harry drawing unwanted attention to himself and all but certainly revealing his parseltongue.

It seemed like there was little choice but to bite the bullet. Hagrid made a point of discussing the matter with all of the teachers, so that they could help to curb any unwanted behaviour in the students, should it come to that. It wasn't ideal; Harry really wanted to just be more normal and didn't want special treatment, but Hagrid could not help but worry. Harry and Draco seemed to be getting on surprisingly well, though. There was always the possibility of being pleasantly surprised. But it was prudent to expect worse anyway.

So, after much stalling, Professor Flitwick asked all students to bring their pets, if they had one, for the next week of charms class. It was as good a time as any. If nothing else, maybe the presence of many pets would help distract from his being 'a bit unusual'.

Ashe, being looped over his shoulders and a bit large for anything more subtle, mostly avoided too much notice by virtue of the busy corridors, thringing with other pets as well at this point. Arriving at the classroom, Harry and his friends chose the centre of the room, hoping it would draw less attention. Neville and Hermione went to claim some spare animals as they lacked pets of their own; Ron had managed to hang on to the family owl, Errol, from the morning's post.

Professor Flitwick was stood up front, with his own, very large blue pigeon, complete with a fancy crown of fanned feathers. Hermione and Neville took their seats with their borrowed toads (having avoided the rats) when he rapped his wand for attention.

"Good morning, class!" He began, "Today we will be practicing simple animal based charms. I trust you all have a suitable pet or animal." He scanned the room, not noticing any obviously empty desks. "Excellent! To start with, a simple colour changing charm. The incantation:  _ pigmentia _ , and the wand movement:" Slowly, Flitwick lowered his wand, and then raised it with a minute flourish at the end. "You must think of the colour, or col _ ours _ if one is easy and you want to try something more advanced. Try to change your animal to at least three different colours separately." Turning, he repeated the spell, directing it towards his pigeon, only this time it was real so the wand motion was imperceptibly quick. The pigeon's blue feathers instantly shifted to a bright orange. Obviously used to this treatment, the abrupt change garnered no reaction. Flitwick turned back to the class. "Off you go, then!"

The hustle and bustle of everyone wanting to have their own go at the charm was ideal for Harry. Ron was first to manage the charm, promptly turning Errol a blindingly bright green. Neville turned his toad a dark red.

" _ How are you? _ " Harry asked Ashe.

" _ Quite content. It is nice to be with you, and… somewhere different. Lots of interesting scents in here _ ."

" _ That'll be all the other animals in here today. _ " Harry told her.

After a while of practicing different colours, Flitwick called out over the class. "Try having a go on different animals, ask your classmates first if you can try on theirs!"

The four stayed together on their table, charming the animals across the desk from each other. Ashe was most unimpressed at being turned a bright blue (you didn't need to be a parselmouth to figure that out), but was more amicable when Hermione turned her black.

"Hello!" Came a voice from behind. Harry twisted in his seat to see who it was, and found an open palm held towards him.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley. Hufflepuff." The boy said brightly. Harry was quite surprised at the forwardness, but took the hand anyway. It was only polite, he supposed.

"I brought over the rat I was borrowing, it seemed like you didn't have one…" he then noticed Ron and flushed in embarrassment. More than he already seemed to be from shaking hands with Harry, anyway.

Ron held up his hands placatingly, trying to stop Justin from spluttering. "Don't worry, it's fine. You're right, we don't have one. I mean, it's only a  _ rat _ ." He leaned conspiratorially towards Hermione. "That  _ is _ just a rat, right?"

Absentmindedly, Harry asked Ashe about the rat. She looked up at Justin, tongue flicking, as Justin stared back, wide eyed.

" _ Just a rat. And a boy who seems concerned, perhaps? _ "

Justin took a step back. "P-please tell your m-mamba not to hurt me!" He whimpered.

"What? Wha- oh, oh no!" Harry laughed nervously. He cast a  _ finite _ on Ashe, returning her to normal colours.

Neville reached over the table and gave her chin a tickle. She leant into it appreciatively. "She's quite harmless, Justin." He said. The others murmured agreement.

Thankfully, that seemed sufficient to ease his nerves. "You didn't ever say you were a parselmouth, Harry!"

"Didn't I? Guess it never came up." Harry said, playing it off nonchalantly. "Ashe has mostly been staying at home, but she wants to come out more nowadays." Justin seemed a bit taken aback at Harry's blasé attitude to this fact, but that was how Harry wanted it to be. "Want a go at colouring her, then? We can have a go with your rat." Harry shuffled his seat aside to make room at the desk.

Nodding, Justin turned and pulled up a seat, carefully depositing the rat on the table. Ashe watched it passively.

As Ron promptly and pointedly turned the rat yellow, Justin seemed to have an idea and carefully observed Ashe before pointing his wand at her and casting " _ Pigmentia! _ "

Ashe turned white and then, as Justin concentrated, red stripes appeared which wound around her…

Harry burst out laughing, shortly followed by everyone else as they saw what Justin had done, who himself was giggling.

Ashe sighed.

~~~

The great hall was somewhat more chaotic than usual at lunchtime as most students took their pets with them straight from charms class. Ashe was relieved to no longer be a candy cane.

There was a certain amount of commotion Harry could overhear relating to him being a parselmouth from the Hufflepuff table, but Justin was continuing to be amicable about it and the conversation seemed to naturally move on anyway.

Ashe sat on the table, scenting the various foods and drinks that were on the table with some interest. Not that she wanted to eat anything here, but any new stimulations were always a plus. Everyone else was making mild small talk as they ate, except Harry who was still surreptitiously keeping an ear out. And lo and behold, news seemed to have spread to some of the Slytherin students; if anyone was going to be interested in a parselmouth, it would probably be them. He noticed some of them swivelling round in their seats for a look as he apparently ignored them.

"...oh, hardly. As if Hagrid's the  _ only _ parselmouth who's been through here since You-Know-Who."

Draco, Harry realised. He surreptitiously continued eavesdropping:

"It  _ is _ a pretty rare ability." Another student, Theodore Knott, contended. "Surely everyone would know if there had been?"

"Precisely. Any Slytherin with a lick of sense wouldn't let anyone else find out. Would  _ you _ want all that attention, Knott?" Draco asked him.

Knott hmmed, considering. "Unless they found the chamber of secrets, the fame and glory of it. And surely they would? Assuming you'd need to be a parselmouth like Salazar himself and You-Know-Who."

"Assuming You-Know-Who actually found it." Draco muttered off handedly, as he ate some of his soup-dipped bread.

Daphne Greengrass tsked at him. "Now that's just silly.  _ I  _ think you're just-"

"Is it, Greengrass? Do we have any proof that You-Know-Who found it other than the  _ fact he said so? _ "

Knott smirked at Greengrass' irritation at both the rebuttal and being cut off. He said nothing himself.

"Well, obviously he'd want to keep the secret to himself moreso than reveal it publically for the fame of it. And he killed Moany with the monster, so we  _ know _ he found the chamber."

A look of concern slipped onto Draco's face at this reminder, but he disguised it as contempt for Greengrass' observation.

"It would only be too easy for him to create the illusion of a monster. I mean, just a pair eyes, in their own? Hardly convincing."

"That's a bit of a stretch, Malfoy." Greengrass said, unimpressed.

"Any more so than actually finding a chamber that may or may not exist that also contains a conveniently controllable monster that hadn't starved to death over the millenium it's been stuck in there? Especially when You-Know-Who had a bit of a habit of twisting the truth." Draco said.

Greengrass simply raised her eyebrows, watching expectantly for his evidence. Draco knew he had her then.

"Well, first of all it came to light that it was him, and not Hagrid the groundskeeper, that killed Myrtle. So he lied about that. And then he claimed to be a pureblood and that anything less was unworthy of the name 'wizard', and now everyone knows he was a halfblooded  _ bastard _ , no less." The watching eyes of the table widened (and Professor Black snorted his drink) at the rather pointed reminder, but it was true, and they all knew it. "And he also claimed to be immortal. And, well, ten years of being dead has done little to convince me _ of that _ , either. The only actually _ true _ thing we know about him at this point is that he was actually a great and powerful wizard. Even if all he did was murder people he didn't like." Draco finished, with a serious look on his face but rather pleased with himself and smirking internally; everyone knew all these things, but sometimes it needed pointing out to prove a point.  _ And _ to totally derail an unwanted conversation about Harry Hagrid being a parselmouth.

Draco calmly ate his soup, but like the proverbial swan, his mind was quite active; it had felt quite good to openly say those things about the Dark Lord. His father, despite having been an unwitting victim of the Dark Lord's  _ imperius _ (much the same as many of his political cohorts that he shared an agenda with, curiously enough), still spoke of him with a certain… reverence. As if the day he returned (unlikely) would be a good thing. But Draco, privately, was unimpressed. The Dark Lord's modus operandi was questionable at best; how could purebloods be on top of society if there was no society left to be on top of? There weren't  _ that  _ many pureblood family lines left, it was only natural that so many halfbloods should exist, seldom the muggleborns which have to go _ somewhere _ , as leaving them unguided amongst the muggles they were born into was a very good way for the statute of secrecy to be broken sooner rather than later, and no one with any sense wanted that.

And having been one of the most powerful wizards ever known in recent memory, the revelation that he was a halfblood himself after all was a huge blow against the ideology of pureblood superiority, both in the political sphere and the minds of many of its former adherents.

Personally, Draco was not finding Hermione at all unpleasant, and she also seemed to be proving the point of being one of the best performing first years alongside himself. And it was doubtful she was the exception to the rule.

He would not say it out loud, certainly not until he was of age himself, but he was increasingly finding his father's political leanings distasteful. They were unnecessarily confrontational and negatively pushing against others not like themselves (pureblood wizards), and from an entirely self serving standpoint they didn't seem to gain anything themselves either, other than creating enmity with much of society at large. Perhaps it artificially inflated their social status, but again, it's hard to believe this means anything when much of the rest of society resents you instead of respects you.

The family name of Malfoy had a rich, well recorded history (naturally, being purebloods), and the name had gained much repute through their actions, garnering respect across generations, elevating them socially. But his father and his father before him had done little themselves to contribute to wizarding society, instead using their political influence to maintain their standing and try to keep everyone else down. The more Draco learned about both family history (which his father would boast of proudly) and more recent activity, the more he felt like he was being mislead.

He'd have to talk to mother about it sometime. Alone, of course.

~~~

Harry awoke one night. Why, he wasn't sure; maybe a strange dream that he no longer remembered. He was desperately hungry, though. Maybe that was it; he'd not been so hungry at dinner and hadn't eaten much.

Naturally, a trip to the kitchens was in order. He slipped out of bed as quietly as possible, and pulled on his invisibility cloak.

He quite enjoyed the peaceful trip to the kitchens, the castle corridors bathed in quiet moonlight. The peace was only disturbed by Peeves chuckling as he swooped past, Harry hearing the indignant complaints of painting residents elsewhere who had evidently fallen foul of his latest antics.

Eventually Harry came to the painting with the pear, tickling it and letting himself in. He slipped off the cloak as the painting shut behind him, and was promptly besieged by a sea of elves asking what he wanted. He explained he was hungry for a dinner he never ate and was promptly offered warmed leftovers. Thanking them, he sat against the wall to eat it before returning to his bed, only to find the elves swiftly bringing him a stool.

As Harry ate, he did notice Kreacher was among the awake elves in the background assisting with the general kitchen duties (most of them were sleeping, but there were always some awake at night). He finished his food, and headed over to him. Kreacher noticed, and turned to meet him. He bowed ever so gently.

"Good evening, master Hagrid."

"And to you, Kreacher. Are you well? Did you get your things?" Harry had to ask. Though he could guess already; Kreacher seemed in improved spirits.

"Yes, Kreacher is collecting his things." He gestured delicately towards his personal cubbyhole nearby. "Though the mistress wanted to remain." He said with some sadness.

From what Harry knew of the painting, Harry was not surprised. Glancing over at the cubbyhole, Harry saw a couple of small, framed moving pictures on a simple shelf, and a very old looking tin that must contain some sort of… wondrous treasure. He went over to it, making to take it for his own…

When he suddenly was shoved down to the floor by an unseen force.

There was a hush as the elves all noticed what Kreacher had just done. His face screwed up with conflicting emotions, unsure what to do with himself.

Shaking himself out of it, Harry scrabbled backwards on the floor away from the tin, yet unable to tear his eyes away from it, before finally standing up.

Kreacher glared at Harry with barely restrained fury. The other elves watched on uncertainly, seemingly waiting for Harry to do or say something. Thankfully, Wilby appeared at that moment. With a peculiar wave, the other elves left and continued their work, still glancing over occasionally.

Kreacher finally found his voice. "He- he tried to  _ take _ it!" He spat.

"Do not blame the young master!" Wilby said, firmly. "It is cursed.  _ It _ is to blame." The aged elf faced Kreacher meaningfully. "You must tell him."

Kreacher's face continued to crumple, but then began to relax as Kreacher saw the logic in what his friend was telling him. Then the realisation of what he had done set in. He dropped to his knees in misery. "What is to be my punishment, master?"

That finally got Harry's full attention. He shook his gaze away from the tin. "Uh, no Kreacher, no punishment.  _ I'm _ sorry, I- I shouldn't have tried to take any of your things. I don't know what came over me…" Harry said, too fearful to chance a look at the tin again. Losing self control like that was, in hindsight, terrifying.

That wasn't good enough for Kreacher. "But Kreacher is breaking so many rules he can't even count, rules the loathsome werewolf is telling Kreacher! Even without, Kreacher must never be attacking his master!" He bawled, tears coming to his eyes.

"Tell him." Wilby said simply, before he gently strode away.

Harry watched after him. "Tell me what?"

Kreacher went suspiciously quiet.

“Something in that old tin of yours is cursed. Right?” Harry asked him.

Kreacher stubbornly said nothing.

“Hmm… alright, then, Kreacher. I think you  _ do _ need a punishment fitting of the fact that you did attack me.” Harry told him.

The old elf looked up at him solemnly, accepting of what was necessary. “What is to be Kreacher’s punishment, master?” He almost seemed relieved that the topic had changed. But it was not to last.

“Your punishment, Kreacher, as your master, is to tell me everything you know about whatever cursed object you have in there.” Harry told him firmly.

Kreacher stared at him in shock, shortly followed by frustration. Then he sighed, eventually relenting. Maybe Wilby was right after all. Kreacher sat down on a large brick by the wall. Harry sat by him to listen…

“Old Master Regulus is being a follower of the Dark Lord, many years ago… when the Dark Lord requested an elf, loyal Regulus offered Kreacher to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord took me away to a terrible place, and did horrible things to Kreacher. Kreacher does not wish to remember…” The old elf paused a moment, breathing raggedly. Harry waited patiently for him to bring himself back under control.

“...poor Kreacher was very weak, so weak, but returned to good Master Regulus as he instructed. Master was frightfully displeased with the Dark Lord, all on old Kreacher’s behalf. Master ordered Regulus to take him back to the evil place. Kreacher had to do the most terrible things, but Master Regulus ordered me to, in order to retrieve the locket belonging to the Dark Lord and replace it with a fake. He ordered me to escape and leave him, and to destroy the locket.”

The poor old elf stopped a moment there, clearly struggling emotionally with remembering this unpleasant incident. Harry allowed him a moment more, before asking out of desperate curiosity “Did you destroy the locket? What happened to Master Regulus?”

Kreacher looked at Harry with a solemn, heavy gaze. “Kreacher is never seeing his beloved Master Regulus again. And Kreacher has been unable to destroy the locket, though I tried many times…”

Chancing a look at the tin, Harry felt that same draw from it again, though he brushed it off this tine, having been expecting it. He could've sworn he heard it whispering in parseltongue…  _ Harry… Harry!... _

Harry gave himself a good shake and turned away from it. Definitely dark magic. To think something  _ he _ had cursed with who knows what was just sat here in the kitchens. And Kreacher had been putting up with that for goodness knows how long. No wonder he was cranky.

He didn't know why a locket would be so important to He Who Must Not Be Named, but either way, Harry wasn't stupid enough to even suggest that he try to destroy it on Kreacher's behalf. It would take a strong wizard to do something that a really determined elf couldn't. The answer was obvious.

"Kreacher, in the morning when he is awake, go to Professor Dumbledore. Tell him everything you just told me about the locket. Ask if he can destroy it for you."

On his seat, Kreacher bowed in recognition of the command. Harry wasn't sure what he was thinking, but he looked tired now. So was Harry, who bid Kreacher a goodnight and swiftly left, before he heard any other weird voices from the tin.

~~~

Sitting at his desk, his hands steepled, the Headmaster peered through his spectacles at the locket on the table.

He could not quite believe his luck that such a thing had made it's own way across his desk!

It had certainly been an eventful morning. Before he could make his way to the hall for breakfast, he had found the old house elf of the Black's waiting for him. Clearly rather distressed, Dumbledore had coaxed him into telling him what he wanted from him. Dumbledore had had to encourage him to take the offered calming draughts as he struggled to get through his story, asking him for as many details as he could out of necessity. He decided not to pry as to what exactly had prompted Kreacher to approach him in the first place, though he could guess.

Kreacher had rather reluctantly left the locket behind with him, interpreting the order given to him as such, even though Dumbledore had been unable to promise immediate destruction, as he still needed more horcruxes in order to cast the triangulation ritual necessary to learn the location of the others. The promise of destroying it in the future had been as close to actually destroying the locket as Kreacher had gotten so far, so here it stayed.

Sirius would certainly be interested to hear about Regulus' change of heart. For the sake of an elf, also! Dumbledore had been quite surprised.

It was clearly a most foul thing. It was also a great shame that an item of such historical import had been effectively destroyed like this, such that Dumbledore did not know of a feasible way to destroy the horcrux without completely destroying the locket with it. He sighed gently as he retrieved a safebox from his desk, placing the locket within. Secured, he floated the box up into a safe spot in the rafters above him. And there it would stay for the foreseeable.

~~~

" _ Separis _ '' spoke Severus Snape, his wand aimed at the unfortunate rat before him. It shrieked involuntarily, despite the obedience and calming charms, as it's tail was removed by the spell, the wound cauterised by an ugly black burn.

A highly unpleasant task, but necessary for Snape to test the efficacy of his new creations.

He had finally completed his first concoction, a salve for direct application. Wounds such as this tended to heal poorly, the curse leaving permanent damaging vestiges which prevented the usual regrowth potions from working. There was no countercurse possible, but theory from the mediwizards was that if the body could heal beyond the wounded area, then it would overcome the harmful effects. The problem was no means of forcing the healing was strong enough for this purpose to overcome the curse.

Taking a small swab in hand, Snape held down the rat and applied the salve gently to the wound. It was, for the most part, a known healing salve that, with frequent reapplication, would completely restore a lost limb or other body part. Exceptions would be injuries caused by darker curses such as this one.

The difference was the added ashwinder components, from Ashe in particular. It had been tricky to maintain the appropriate effectiveness of the other ingredients in combination with the new components, Snape having to add other novel ingredients also. All other batches prior to this one had been obviously flawed by their scent alone; this was the first one Snape had even considered attempting a live trial with. Nonetheless he was quite confident this would work.

He looked upon the rat with pity. It would not be an easy thing to endure, the body struggling to keep up with the regeneration. He made sure ample, highly quality food was available, as well as luxurious furnishings… for a rat, anyway. It was the best recompense he could offer.

He took to his armchair, turning over his 2-hour hourglass, and turned to his current spot in his novel. It was going to be a long, sleepless night.

~~~

It was with a bit of a loud  _ bang _ that the door of Hagrid's hut swung open. Harry jumped in his seat, as his dad opposite him at the table looked up. Harry's queen piece shook her head disapprovingly. Fang opened a single eye briefly before continuing to snooze.

"Sorry 'bout that." Sirius muttered. "Not thinking straight. A drink, Hagrid?"

"Just a mo'... rook to D4." he said, getting up to accompany Sirius to the kitchen area, leaving Harry to muse over his options, idly dropping a cloth over the silently complaining queen so he could concentrate.

Hagrid and Sirius sidled together before the work surface as Hagrid poured a couple of drinks out. "Y'a'right? Yer seem a bit out of it." Hagrid asked.

Taking a quick swig, Sirius spoke in a low tone to Hagrid "Dumbledore just told me something that shook me a bit, I'll tell you later. For now, I just need to relax with a bit of company, if that's alright?"

"O'course, yer always welcome!" Said Hagrid jovially, clapping Sirius on the shoulder. "Heck, why don't Remus join us?"

\---

Roping Remus in had been a good idea, Hagrid thought to himself; he might appear quite well, but Sirius was probably more emotionally fragile than he seemed on the surface. Hence getting Remus involved to distract Sirius and be there as additional support for him to lean on.

Harry had had a fun evening with them, exploring some fun memories with them. It was getting a bit late now though, so Hagrid had prepared a hot chocolate for Harry and set it down by him, as well as some firewhisky for everyone else.

As the memory evidently ended and heads came up, Remus had an odd look on his face. Harry and Sirius were grinning like fools though.

"Wha' was that one?" Hagrid asked, curious.

"Well, Lupin was having a bit of a furry night, so the rest of us joined in. Sixth year some point." Sirius thoughtfully added, raising a finger. "We were running around the woods, as you do, when we noticed a centaur in the distance through the trees…"

"Oh no." Hagrid muttered under his breath.

"Oh, yes!" Sirius exclaimed. "So naturally, we knew we had to mess with him…"

By the end of the story, Harry was stuck in a laughing fit; even Lupin couldn't keep a small smirk off his face.

"...they still don' trust Denzi's star readings, ya know." Hagrid said.

"No! Really?" Said Sirius.

"As if I didn't feel guilty enough for my part in all this…" Bemoaned Remus.

"Ah, cheer up, Remus! I'm sure-"

Holding up a hand to shush him, Hagrid looked at Harry, still giggling but obviously very tired now. "Come on, 'Arry, ter bed with yer." He encouraged gently, helping Harry up and to his room. He made sure Harry could sort himself out for bed, and said his goodnight before coming back to the table.

"...it's quite jarring, really." Remus was saying.

"Hm?" Hagrid queried, as he pulled his seat out and retook his place.

"Oh, well, I don't really remember being the wolf much without wolf's bane potion, so seeing those times like that, it's a little strange."

Hagrid nodded in understanding.

"Well, now you've got some!" Sirius declared proudly. "I almost can't wait for the full moon. Think McGonagall would join us?"

Remus barely withheld the sip of drink he'd just taken at that ridiculous statement. "Ah… I doubt itm and you really needn't have worried about getting me wolf's bane-"

Sirius glared at him. Remus didn't even bother trying to argue anymore, unable to help his small smile.

Clearing his throat quietly, Hagrid delicately said "So, wanna tell us 'bout what Dumbledore told yer?"

Sirius frowned uncertainly. Both other men at the table gave him reassuring looks; Remus evidently knew something was up too. Sirius sighed in defeat. Or relief, perhaps.

"Maybe I'm overreacting, it's history after all, but…" Sirius gazed out of the blackened window for a long moment. Only the warm, crackling fire interrupted the silence. "Regulus betrayed the Dark Lord."

Sirius' brother, the death eater? Both Hagrid and Remus looked suitably surprised at the revelation.

"How do we know this after all this time?" Asked Remus.

Sirius sniffed loudly. "Kreacher, apparently. He came to Dumbledore this morning and explained everything; he had a cursed object of Voldemort's that Regulus had stolen and ordered him to destroy, but had never managed to all this time. Honestly, puts his general foulness in perspective a bit. Regulus always was…  _ nice _ to Kreacher." He lamented sourly.

Remus mused thoughtfully. "But why now? Why sit on this thing for so long?"

"Kreacher never said, but I think we can easily guess, can't we? It was only the other day Harry asked me for permission for Kreacher to visit the house to-"

"-collect his effects? Yes, I remember seeing him, actually. Wouldn't talk to me much, though." Remus said. "But either way, how are  _ you _ holding up, Sirius?"

They waited patiently as Sirius stared into his drink for a long moment. "I don't know." He said, finally. "We never got on all that well, but he was still my brother. I was closer to him than any of the rest of the family until I'd had enough. Not that that means much. But to think, in the end, he switched sides -  _ dying _ for it, so Kreacher says - I feel…  _ frustrated _ . I lost so much time with him, when he should've been with us! Maybe leaving home was a mistake…"

"I don' think so." Hagrid said. "It were very bad there, Sirius. You might not even have survived that long. An', I mean, 'e  _ did _ become a death eater. 'S not so simple as that. You are not, and were not, responsible fer 'im."

Sirius smiled gently, swigging his drink, nodding. "Perhaps you're right, Hagrid. Still feels strange, though. It's just been so long."

He felt a hand clasp his shoulder, turning to see that it was Remus, smiling at him. "He'd be proud of you, Sirius. Heck, I am already, the way you've rebounded since you've been with us, and teaching!"

Unable to keep the grin of pleasure off his face, Sirius drank some more as he changed the topic to brighter things.

~~~

It was only due to his sharper hearing that Padfoot noticed the steps of Harry, getting out of bed.

He pulled his dry tongue into his mouth, rolling off his back onto his belly. The fire had dwindled to gentle ashes overnight.

Logically, Sirius was okay, but he still felt quietly uneased emotionally, so had spent the night as Padfoot. He didn't see much need to change at the moment, either; he was free today. Some exercise might do him good, besides.

So it was that he, Remus, Harry, Hagrid, Ashe and Fang set off into the forest for a nice morning walk. The scents of the spring flowers were pleasant as he trotted ahead of the group, exploring; it had been some years since he'd had the opportunity to do so, even before Azkaban put his life on hold.

It was simpler, being the dog. You had the same intelligence as a man, obviously, but it was also that much easier to just switch off, indulging your baser instincts and physicality without the need for mental examination and forethought. If he felt the urge to sniff a curious log, he could do so undeterred, or if he desired a quick sprint, all the same.

Walking about with Fang was an interesting experience. Padfoot could tell he was no animagus, but it didn't matter that much either in the moment. A much calmer presence than the wolf of Remus had been able to be, who had always been difficult to keep up with, full of seemingly boundless energy; it was no wonder that Remus was, for lack of a better word, exhausted for a couple of days afterwards.

He only half paid attention to the conversation the others were having, just enough so he didn't miss anything important. It was with some amusement that he occasionally noticed Harry watching him with no small amount of envy. Just a few more years, Harry, then we'll teach you. He couldn't help but wonder what form Harry would take; he'd have bet on a stag, if Lily and James had still been alive. But now, he couldn't be sure and maybe that was unfairly reductive, anyway; Lily and James were probably a good match because of their shared nature, rather than vice versa being true. Harry was his own man.

His interest was piqued when Harry asked Remus what his form might be.

Remus was never involved in the protracted animagus ritual, the idea being it was a surprise for him. In hindsight, they should have been more cautious and made sure a werewolf wouldn't recognise animagi for what they really were… but nonetheless, Moony had recognised them as friends and not had to contend with the overpowering instinct to attack humans.

Padfoot didn't know if werewolves even _ could _ be animagi, but perhaps it was worth entertaining the idea. It was doubtful it would be able to prevent the werewolf transformation during full moons, but maybe it could have some sort of bearing on it, allowing Remus to be exposed to animal instincts whilst much more lucid. That and Padfoot just wanted to see what would happen. Maybe during the summer when there was no students to worry about.

He let his mind drift again as he found an interesting scent. Fang joined in, curiously sniffing. To them, it was a strong, dusty and musty kind of smell, seeming to be spread about this wide clearing.

Centaurs, Padfoot eventually recognised. Sure enough, there were hoof marks dotted about. Must've been a collective of them here last night.

Unsurprising, as they came near a clear pool, the edge firm and flattened from regular use. It was an instant magnet for curious smells, as the hard ground held few footprints. Boar, deer, thestral…


	18. Chapter 18

The rest of the year had flown by quite quickly; there was nary a week left before the summer holiday. Harry would miss his friends, but it would be nice to not have classes for a bit. It's not like they couldn't meet up, anyway.

He was enjoying a wonderful dinner this evening, the elves making extra effort for the last week. As much for their own last bit of enjoyment as the students'. He tuned out Fred and George lamenting Sirius' uncanny ability to avoid every single trap they had laid for him, as he listened to the hushed discussion his compatriots were sharing.

"You sure we've checked everywhere?" Ron asked, as Hermione scoured her list of castle locations.

" _ Yes _ , Ron. Look for yourself if you must." She tossed the parchment onto the table.

Neville saw Harry roll his eyes at the small argument. "It  _ is _ nearly the end of term. And we were so confident, too."

Ah, the chamber again. Realising how daunting the task was, Draco had permitted that Harry get his friends in on the hunt. Under secrecy, of course.

"...we've asked all the ghosts, even." Hermione continued. "I couldn't find anything even with Myrtle's help. Despite how forthcoming she was about the whole thing…”

“Ghosts’re weird.” Ron mumbled through his chewing.

Harry supposed that was the highlight of a ghost’s existence, dying. So naturally they were keen to discuss the topic.

“Think it really exists, then?” Neville asked.

Everyone shrugged.

“I mean… whatever killed Myrtle must have come from  _ somewhere _ .” Hermione conjectured.

Neville gestured with his fork. “Assuming Riddle didn’t just conjure some funky eyes to make it seem like there was a monster.”

“ _ I can hunt around at night; I may smell something you cannot see? I’ve noticed all sorts of scents around the castle. _ ” Ashe piped in. She was gradually improving in her understanding of spoken english, making communicating easier on the whole.

“ _ Hey, that’s a good idea. We’re absolutely out of ideas, we already looked everywhere _ .” Harry replied.

Everyone looked up automatically in query.

“Ashe is going to have a look about for us at night.” Harry said. “She smells all sorts of things about the castle, so she might notice something we don’t.”

“Brilliant idea;” said Neville “considering this is Slytherin’s chamber, a snake probably has a good chance of finding it!” Everyone else also agreed this was their best chance at this point, having already explored everywhere; it was simply unfortunate they had little helpful advice for Ashe as to where to start, other than perhaps the 2nd floor of the castle, seeing as this was the same floor as the only known potential casualty of the chamber being opened. But Ashe was quite excited at the prospect of a solo excursion anyway.

~~~

Having left dinner slightly early, Fred and George were loitering in an abandoned corridor; pondering the mystery of Professor Black and his seeming immunity to any of their pranks.

“And I had  _ so _ wanted to give him Quirrell’s turban; even if we managed it now, it wouldn’t be quite so funny.”

“True that, Fred.”

“Hard catching him in the corridors without catching someone else, though.”

“Mm.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I’m not intending to.”

“Why not?”

“Because I already have an idea.”

“And that is?”

“We know where he’s going to be for first class tomorrow morning.”

“What, you’re really suggesting his classroom?”

“The very same.”

“Only because I thought of it first.”

“Sure you did, George.”

\---

Watching their map of the castle (and it’s occupants) carefully, they made sure the coast was clear. In particular, that Professor Black was still preoccupied with dinner; they needed to leave as soon as he left the dinner hall; had to be visibly seen to be elsewhere, or else they were just too obvious as suspects.

Naturally,  _ alohomora _ was not going to work on a teachers’ locked room. Which is why they’d filched muggle lockpicking equipment from dad and enchanted it to be unbreakable and curse resistant; or as close to that as a couple of 2nd years could muster, anyway.

It took some tinkering, but they made their way in. They wedged a small piece of parchment in the latch to prevent the door locking properly again, but so that they could still close it so as not to arouse suspicion.

“Right, George, got the goods?”

“‘Course I do Fred. Wouldn’t be much good otherwise, would I?” Without taking his eyes off the map, he drew a significant amount of dungbombs from within his robes.

“Yeah, you really aren’t much good other than supplying dungbombs.”

“Hey!”

Fred took some from him, and ducked beneath the desk at the head of the classroom. Just shoving some bombs in here would be no good; they had to be timed to go off during class tomorrow, but also right when the Professor was-

“Uh, Fred?”

“What, George? I’m busy.”

“You’d better come out here.”

“Considering the Professor was still in the dinner hall last I looked over your shoulder, this’d better-” Fred stood up straight from his hunched position “-be-”

Professor Black was stood, arms crossed, with an… amused expression?

He strode forwards, letting his arms drop. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the infamous Weasley twins! And just what were you planning to do to my desk?”

Fred looked to George for help. George looked to Fred for assistance. They were both nonplussed. But the Professor seemed to be a good sport; they wouldn’t have dared try something like this otherwise.

“Well, we have our own brand of dungbombs here, and we-”

“-were going to plant some under your desk here-”

“-with a charm to that they’d respond and activate when-”

“-you’d been sat in that chair for-”

“-eleven minutes!” George finished, the pride evident in their voices.

“Bit of a, simple prank, no?”

The twins both sniffed with indignance.

“Really, Professor? We managed to get into your office, and intended to leave again, undetected, having planted what should have been an untraceable prank that would activate in the middle of class tomorrow morning.” Said Fred.

“On a  _ Professor _ , from two 2nd years.” George pointed out.

Professor Black stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Perhaps you’re right. Maybe I  _ am _ being a bit harsh. There’s only the two of you, after all.”

The twins looked at each other. “Two of us as opposed to what?”

“Oh, I don’t know...four students, perhaps?” Black mused to himself, seemingly absentmindedly.

“Four? Why four?” They asked together.

“Oh, no particular reason. Just my experience, that’s all. Four, marauding students…” Black continued.

Fred and George could only gaze at him, hardly daring to ask.

“Interesting bit of parchment you’re holding there, George.”

George just looked down at it, a bit dumbly. No way could he raise his wand now to hide the map. Not that there seemed much point, as-

“Says I’m still in the great hall, doesn’t it?” Black stopped being airy and spoke directly now.

George quickly rescanned the map. “Yeah, it does. How do you know?”

“I  _ confunded _ it yesterday after I dodged your last attempt, of your many attempts, I might add, yesterday to snare me in one of your schemes.”

“You  _ knew _ the whole time!?” Fred cried out.

“As if I’d have managed to avoid all of them otherwise.”

“But, how? How did you know about all of them? The toe snarer, the swinging gnome-”

“Well, I’m sure you know yourselves how I’d know all about that sort of thing. Unless you really need me to  _ spell it out _ -”

“No, no we don’t!” George placated, waving his hands about. “Wow, to think you’re  _ teaching _ us, though. Which one are you, then?”

In answer, the professor promptly transformed into a large, black dog, sitting on his haunches. He turned his head to look at them, before becoming a man again. “Answer your question?”

“Padfoot!” The twins declared in unison. “Do we know the others, then?” Fred asked.

Black counted down the four on his fingers. “Me, Padfoot. James Potter, Prongs, he was a stag. Remus Lupin, Moony, my friend with his own furry little problem. And you know who Wormtail is. The  _ rat _ .”

The pair had the decency to look sad for a moment, before pressing Black with more questions. “So, if you knew we were trying to prank you, why didn’t you punish us?”

“Heh, I wanted to see how far you’d go, to be honest. Got to say, I’ve been very impressed with you both. I am glad that someone worthwhile eventually got hold of that map again, too.” Black said.

“How did Filch get it off of you guys? You must have been older than us to make something like this, we reckon, at least.” Said Fred.

Professor Black nodded knowingly. “We thought we ought to leave it behind in Hogwarts, until a, or some, worthy successors found it for themselves. We, uh,  _ engineered _ the situation in which Filch discovered us with a rude bit of parchment. Had to know it was us, or else he wouldn’t have kept it as a trophy of the one time he caught us out.”

The twins nodded eagerly in fascination and understanding.

“Anyway, I do have a bit of work to do for now, so if you don’t mind…?”

“Of course, sir!” The twins chanted in unison, bowing in a greatly exaggerated fashion. They turned to leave-

“Oh, one more thing.”

They stopped, swivelling their heads.

“Next year, I probably ought not be so lenient, or else for you two. I am a Professor now, after all.” Black declared proudly, gripping his lappels.

“Or else...what?” George questioned.

“A fate worse than detention.” Black said, mysteriously.

Fred and George looked at each other, before a grin broke out on their faces.

“You’re on!” They said, as they quickly strode out the room.

Black smirked. He truly was pleased the map had found some new, appropriate owners. Unbeknownst to the twins, the map would bear a message for them the next time they should open it: a very loud, rude raspberry.

~~~

A pleasant, heavy warmth enveloped Harry’s chest as he slept. He continued to dream pleasantly for an indeterminate length of time before he awoke; Ashe waiting patiently on him, resting after her nightly excursion.

Harry yawned, stretching his arms out. Ron and Neville were still tucked under their blankets, the faint sunlight not being sufficient to wake them just yet.

“ _ Morning, Ashe. Have fun?” _

“ _ Indeed I did. And I also may have a lead for you, I hope. _ ”

“ _ Oh, wow, awesome. Thanks, Ashe. _ ” Harry said, gently stroking her chin.

Ashe pressed down against Harry’s upturned finger, enjoying the chin rub. “ _ Not at all. I enjoyed exploring, honestly. _ ”

“ _ So, whatcha find? _ ” Harry asked.

“ _ It is as your friends said, the 2nd floor seems promising. There is… a damp scent, in the haunt of the Myrtle girl. Stale. It seeps from the sinks somehow. _ ”

“ _ So maybe it is in there after all. We’ll have to investigate together later with the others. Did Myrtle mind you being there? _ ”

“ _ Surprisingly not. I think she was almost glad of the ‘company’, being that I could not easily communicate with her. _ ”

“ _ I’ll have to visit her more over the summer. _ ” Harry resolved to her. “ _ Haven’t spoken to her much during the school year, I’ve been so caught up! _ ”

\---

Having let his friends know of Ashe’s lead, the five students could hardly wait for classes to be over. They were quite lax that day (except Snape, naturally) seeing as term was so close to closing.

As the evening was quieting down, a couple hours before curfew, all five met up and headed to the infamous, 2nd floor girls’ bathroom. Unsurprisingly, the corridor was totally empty outside the room, so they had no problem sauntering in; Harry didn’t mind Myrtle so much, but her relationship with most students was still… not great.

“Hi Myrtle!” Harry called out as they all strode in. His call echoed around the totally silent bathroom. “Huh, must not be here. That’s odd.”

“Makes our life easier though.” Said Draco, eager to begin investigating. “So, we’re following Ashe, are we?”

Harry let Ashe down to the floor, so they could all follow her. She didn’t go far. “ _ Here somewhere… _ ” she said, investigating the crevices of the large sink unit.

She made her way back up Harry’s leg as they all set on the sink, giving it a good look around on all sides. It wasn’t long before Neville called out -

“Hey, Harry, check this out!”

“Why Harry? What’s wrong with me?” Draco complained.

“Because it’s a  _ snake _ , obviously. Harry’s the only parselmouth here.” Hermione stated, as Neville drew all their attention to a very small embossed snake in the metal of one of the taps; small enough to easily be overlooked as a meaningless scuff, but close inspection made the deliberate nature of its presence obvious. “Unless it means something else, but that’s my only guess.”

Looking at it closely, Harry knew it must be something. He tried turning the tap on; it didn’t work. He tried yanking the entire tap, which was stuck fast.

“Try saying something?” Ron suggested. “Y’know, in parseltongue. Would make sure only Slytherin’s heirs can get in, wouldn’t it?”

“Well, naturally. That’s why I approached Harry in the first place.” Draco added.

Feeling foolish, Harry looked at the sinks, unsure what to say for a moment. “ _ Uh… open? _ ”

Everyone felt the floor rumble slightly beneath their feet, as the seemingly broken sink lifted itself into the air by unseen forces, presenting a deep, black tunnel. They all stepped over to it, peering in.

“Looks like a flume.” Hermione commented. “It’s a sort of big waterslide, for fun.” She explained to everyone.

“Think this is it?” Neville asked.

“Definitely.” Said Draco, certainly. “It’s Slytherin’s chamber…” He said with awe. He strode towards the hole confidently.

“Don’t you think we should tell a teacher first, maybe Dumbledore?”

Draco hesitated. “I did want to truly be the first to discover the chamber, but…” he gazed into the inky blackness. “...maybe you’re right. I’m sure we’ll still get credit for finding it, right? I want to be in the history boo-”

“BUUAARRRRGHH!!” A horrendous loud shriek suddenly interrupted Draco, accompanied by the sudden appearance of a huge, terrifying visage.

Shrieking, they all stumbled back, with Draco and Ron sliding into the stony flume. Flailing, Draco grabbed Neville’s trouser leg, and the resulting kerfuffle sent them all tumbling into the hole after one another.

Lowering the large, hideous tribal mask he was holding, Peeves loomed over the pit, looking down curiously.

“Peeves is doing a wheeze!” he cackled triumphantly. “Silly students is not being billy goats, oh no, not at all!” He looked around the room curiously, wondering where his intended quarry had gotten to. “Hey, Myrtle, did you know your friends moan just as much as you do…!”

\---

Unceremoniously landing atop Hermione, Harry quickly rolled off of her, his feet crunching on the uneven floor. He helped her up as the others also righted themselves. Draco grimaced as he looked at what exactly they were standing on.

“What the… eugh.” Ron commented, sliding the multitude of rat skeletons away with his feet to give them some clear ground to stand on. “Bloody  _ Peeves _ .”

Harry took stock of their surroundings as everyone wiped themselves down, no one especially pleased at the turn of events. They were in a small chamber, made up of the same large bricks of stone as most of the inner castle walls were. A couple of passages lead away from here, one blocked off by collapsed rubble. Despite the darkness of before and the lack of torches, a mysterious pale green light seemed to illuminate their surroundings.

He looked back up at their entrance passage. “Doesn’t look like we can get back out this way.”

“Doesn’t seem very convenient for Salazar though, does it?” Hermione suggested. “Maybe you can command it again, say, ‘stairs’?”

Harry dutifully hissed up at the passage. It groaned gently, a staggered stairway beginning to emerge from the walls on the upper surface of the tube, oddly. It juddered and faltered, a few bricks sliding down, causing them to jump back. Eventually it stopped, incomplete. “Well, that was weird.” Harry said. “Don’t think we can get back up that way, though.”

“Seems like a strange design.” Neville said.

“Well, I remember in  _ Hogwarts: A History _ that many features were added to the school long after it was built,  _ including _ many of the toilets, such as the girls’ bathroom we were just in!” Hermione realised triumphantly. “No wonder the stairs don’t work properly. And aren’t in the right place…”

“Nice one, Granger.” Draco said. “Riddle must have got in and out somehow though.”

“He  _ was  _ an older student at the time, I wouldn’t be surprised if he levitated his way up there.” Ron lamented. “I sure hope we’re not stuck down here…”

“Eventually Myrtle will come back and see the obvious tunnel and tell someone, we’ll be fine.” Harry brushed off the concerns. “I say let’s explore while we wait!” He trotted off eagerly down the corridor. Only Hermione hesitated, but followed everyone else anyway, not wanting to stand alone in the pile of rat skeletons.

The group cautiously followed the corridor, uncertain as to what to expect. The corridor opened up into an unexpectedly rugged, rocky area, though one built wall remained to demonstrate the intended nature of this passage. Fortunately, the floor remained smooth enough for safe passage; perhaps another consequence of the shifting of the castle above around the hidden chamber.

No one seemed to want to discuss why there were so many rat skeletons. At least, Harry thought, there weren’t any recently deceased rats; if they were the work of the monster, perhaps it was gone now. Maybe everyone else suspected the same.

Eventually a real room was before them again. A great, heavy iron vault door stood before them, five large snakes covering the front of it. It was clearly sealing off another tunnel. Harry didn’t need prompting, as he demanded the door to open. Thankfully, this piece of magic still worked fully as intended, the intricately detailed metal snakes moving so as to release the locking mechanisms they controlled. The door swung open before them.

As a gush of stale air brushed over them, Ashe stiffened somewhat. Harry questioned her.

“ _ Just the same stale scent, but I detect… something else. It’s too faint though. But it’s… a  _ creature _. _ ” She explained. “ _ Definitely a serpent. _ ”

Harry hesitated a moment, but felt a strange urge to press on. However, he knew there was definitely a danger ahead now. He turned round to the others. “I think you all should wait here. Ashe smells something ahead.”

Crossing his arms with some irritation, Draco said “While we do what, nothing? You’re gonna get the glory, are you?”

Harry shook his head. “I’ll call you if it’s safe, but just in case, I think I should go alone. Not for glory, but just because I’m a parselmouth; Ashe says she can smell a snake ahead… sort of. Maybe it’s Slytherin’s monster, so…”

“So what, you’ll face it alone? We’ll help you!” Ron stated defiantly.

“No, I think Harry meant he wants to talk to it without starting a fight.” Said Hermione.

“Exactly.” Said Harry. “I feel like if it did kill Myrtle, maybe it was only because Tom Riddle forced it to?” He suggested.

“Doesn’t really line up with what I know about the chamber…” Draco conjectured. “That Salazer hid a monster there to purge Hogwarts of mu- muggleborns.” He stammered.

Neville eyed him shrewdly. “Those are just rumours though, we don’t actually  _ know _ that.”

Draco looked at him a moment. “...true. You’re probably right.” He said, thinking about his father’s questionable political ideas again.

Harry looked about the group. “If that’s settled, I and Ashe will go ahead.”

“Can you leave us a trail at least, then?” Ron suggested. “Like a rope, maybe?”

The boys all commiserated that it was a good idea, with only Hermione confused. “Yeah, great, but how are we going to get a rope down here?”

“Transfiguration?” Neville suggested, confused.

“ _ Exactly _ . We can probably turn some of this rubble to a rope if we work together.” Said Ron.

Draco mused thoughtfully. “...and maybe Harry can end the spell if something bad happens, so we know to run away?”

“Otherwise, I’ll tug the rope. Good enough?” Harry said.

That seemed a good enough idea for them all. So they set to work collecting a small heap of rubble, and then they all cast a transfiguration spell together, creating a very long rope. Harry took one end, and waved to his compatriots as he confidently stepped into the round tunnel before them, dragging the rope behind him. Everyone else watched the rope trail away behind him, nervously waiting.

\---

Despite the possible danger, Harry had felt a keen urge to go onwards. He had not wanted to jeopardise his friends’ safety, but knew he had to go ahead anyway. He wondered why; had Salazer left a subtle charm to influence his descendants? Was Harry just curious about the beast that may lie ahead? Or was there something else unknown within him? He couldn’t say.

The path ahead went into greater, almost imperceptible darkness. Ashe reassured him the ground was quite flat. The air here was thick with damp, Harry’s footsteps patting gently onto the wet stone. As he advanced, some torches came to life of their own accord, increasing the lighting of the room. They were held within great carved snake heads, rising from the water as they bordered the path Harry followed.

Eventually, the whole room was lit, and Harry gasped in awe. This must be the final chamber… the chamber of secrets itself! It was a wonder to behold, the water flowing gently and pleasingly all around, more great carved statues following the room, culminating in a colossal figurehead beyond a pool. It bore the visage of an old, bearded man. Harry looked at it curiously. He supposed it must be Salazar himself.

Holding his wand, pointed at the rope in his hand, Harry crept forwards, closer to it. There must be something here, what was the point in an empty chamber?

“ _ The scent is stronger here. _ ” Ashe commented, reminding Harry to be vigilant.

As Harry trod forwards, he heard the sliding of stone, as the mouth of Salazer began to open. Then Harry head another sliding noise, of something heavy moving forwards, stopping and hesitating occasionally. It sounded rather like the noise the rope made as he dragged it. He mentally prepared himself, and stood firm. He felt Ashe reassuringly tighten around him, nervous herself.

It was a good thing, too, as Harry almost fell over with shock as a truly colossal green serpent suddenly burst forth into the pool. Without hesitation, the creature charged forwards. Harry stepped backwards in fear as it bore down upon him, with bright yellow eyes that drew his gaze, and huge, sharp fangs appearing as the mouth opened.

“ _ How dare you return, _ defiler!” The serpent shrieked, full of fury.

Harry felt his muscles stiffen involuntarily, unable to shake his gaze away from those mesmerising eyes. Even in this moment, they were… beautiful.

Fortunately, Ashe was less affected by the serpent’s charm. “ _ Wait, stop! _ ” She cried out.

The great snake flinched in confusion, but continued it’s attack. Ashe could only curl protectively about Harry, her own fangs bared and ready to strike for what good they would do. The serpent bore down on them, enwrapping them both in a couple of coils almost as thick as Hagrid.

Task done, the creature turned it’s malevolent gaze to Ashe, Harry still struck dumb by the charm of the creature and stiff to boot.

“ _ Why should I not destroy this evil man, then? _ ” The serpent questioned. “ _ I sense… you are his familiar! How can you excuse his evil!? _ ” It demanded angrily.

Despite the tenseness of the situation, Ashe could only throw the much larger snake an incredulous look. “ _ Evil? Harry’s never done an evil thing in his life! And anyway, he’s never been here before, how could he return? _ ” Ashe said, perplexed.

The angry creature huffed, it’s eyes opening wider as it focused more clearly on Harry, tongue flicking rapidly. The angry tenseness dropped slightly as it seemed to realise it’s fury had been inappropriately directed.

“ _ I am… confused. He scents the same, or at least similar, to the one who came here before, who forced me to murder a student. And yet what you speak of seems to be true, he cannot be the one who I suspected. _ ” The great serpent dropped its coils completely, as well as the hypnotic gaze. It took Harry a brief moment to come to, as he looked up at the creature in awe, it still staring at him uncertainly.

“ _ I-I’m Harry. Harry H-Hagrid. _ ” Harry stammered, still nervous; it was hard not to be. “ _ Ashe here is my familiar. Who might you be? _ ” He asked.

Sensing his nervousness, the great green serpent lower itself down, so that it’s head was more or less level with Harry. “ _ I am Beaulindha, the familiar of the late Salazar Slytherin; I am sure  _ he _ needs no introduction. _ ” She came forward to Harry. “ _ I must apologise to you for my rashness; I feared you were one who came before, he would force me under his will once again if I did not act with haste. _ ” She hesitated a moment. “ _ As you are evidently another heir of Slytherin, I offer to you my aid, if you so wish it. _ ” She bowed to Harry.

Harry suddenly felt rather sad, looking at her. “ _ Did Salazer honestly just force you to stay here all this time, just to be a slave to whoever happened to come along? _ ” Harry said, finding he was getting increasingly angry “ _ You were his familiar, he should’ve treated you better than that! _ ”

Slumping her weight on his shoulders, Ashe tried to calm Harry down with a reassuring presence. Beaulindha quirked her head as she looked up at Harry again.

“ _ The plan was mutual, between us, for me to remain here long after his death to protect the school should it ever be necessary, against the desires of the other founders. The additional charm upon me to force compliance with his heirs I also submitted to willingly. It had seemed a prudent sensibility at the time, a theory that has not borne out. Your indignation on my behalf is appreciated, though. _ ” She said, seemingly amused.

Walking up to her, Harry admired her, looking her over. She truly was huge, almost like a dragon (minus the limbs, of course), the bright yellow eyes offset by a deep, emerald green that was probably brighter in her youth. “ _ What kind of snake are you? _ ” Harry muttered absentmindedly.

“ _ I am a basilisk, young master. _ ”

Harry stopped and looked at her in shock. He almost flinched seeing the eyes again, before remembering he had been staring at her eyes plenty. He scratched his head, confused. “ _ I thought people who looked basilisks in the eyes died! _ ” He exclaimed.

Beaulindha huffed with her mouth open, an expression Harry recognised as a chuckle. “ _ I can somewhat hypnotise and paralyse you with my glare, yes. But Salazar managed to channel his magic through me with a spell, making my gaze more directly lethal. Only my master or his descendants could do so; Salazar left behind knowledge of how to do so, hence Riddle used me to do the same… _ ”

“What did he need to do that for?” Harry asked.

“ _ Things in the past were not easy; we both had to take our part in some great battles to decide the fate of the magical world. All the founders of Hogwarts did. It is good to know that it has lead to comparative peace in your time. Either way, my kind is rare enough that perhaps it is not surprising that assumption is what it is. _ ”

Harry listened to her intently, and then suddenly remembered his friends were waiting behind for some sort of signal.

“ _ Um, my friends came down here with me. I think they might like to come and say hi? Not in parseltongue, of course! _ ”

With Beaulindha indicating that that was fine, Harry went to the rope and gave it a few tugs.

It wasn’t long before Harry heard the pattering of quick footsteps on the wet floor as his four friends all jogged to catch up, following the rope. Harry turned to them and told them to stay calm, as they all looked up and gasped in shock and fright. Beaulindha stayed quite still, allowing them a moment to catch themselves.

“I suppose we did… discuss that something like this might happen.” Hermione said. Everyone nodded agreement, still unable to take their eyes off of the huge snake.

“...is that a  _ basilisk? _ ” Draco said, surprised. “And yet, you’re not dead. And neither are we.”

“She explained that she needs a wizard to help her kill with her eyes, such as what Riddle did to Myrtle.” Harry explained.

“Certainly more practical that way, I guess.” Draco said. “Is she it, then? Is there anything else of note in the Chamber?” He asked.

“ _ There are some scrolls Salazar left behind down here for his heirs. They are in there. _ ” She raised her tail from the water, indicating a passage leading past the left side of the face.

Thanking her, Harry quickly lead the group through, finding a small, cosy room. A simple stone desk, seat and shelves were carved into the room, stacks of scrolls lined up on the shelves, some unfurled on the desk. Draco was first to have a good look at them, eagerly inspecting them.

“...these are all advanced magic; I can barely make any sense out of it. What about you, Granger?”

“Mmm.” Hermione hummed, unwilling to admit being stumped by written word on a page.

“It probably doesn’t help that the actual words are in such an old dialect.” Neville said, coming forward to have a look at what was written, in between the graphs and glyphs.

“Hey, maybe we’ll be famous from this, though! Rich, even! Can we sell these?” Ron said, excitedly.

“They belong to the school.” Hermione said, affronted at the suggestion. “We’ll have to tell the Headmaster. I’m sure he’ll thank us someway, though. Maybe we could be famous, I guess…”

“Unless the Chamber belongs to Slytherins’ heir instead?” Neville suggested. Everyone looked at Harry, expectantly. He thought for a moment, after realising what they were insinuating.

“...well, if it  _ is _ mine, I think I should give it to Hogwarts anyway. I think that’s fair.” He said, finally. “I don’t need to keep any of this to myself.”

“If we can get out of here to tell anyone.” Ron lamented.

“Well, if anyone knows…” Harry said, leading them all back out to where Beaulindha was waiting for them.

“ _ The entrance stairs don’t work. Is there another way out of here? _ ” Harry asked her.

She shook her head. Everyone looked at one another, concerned.

“ _ Do not fret, students of Hogwarts. I can easily take you back up myself, should you need to. _ ”

\---

Followed by Beaulindha, everyone followed the rope back and onwards, heading towards the initial chamber full of skeletons. Harry asked her, prompted by Ron’s memory as they neared it, as they evidently had not been her food. She merely indicated that Riddle used to amuse himself down here at times. No one wanted to asked further after that.

Suddenly, loud tramping and calling voices echoed from up ahead. Shocked, everyone backed up into the more open, un-corridor-like area as Dumbledore ran in, followed swiftly by Sirius, Hagrid and Myrtle. Wands raised, they looked at the children, then the basilisk, open-eyed, but it was quickly evident that there was no danger here. Seeing those familiar yellow eyes, Myrtle shrieked, and retreated back from where she’d come. Having recoiled slightly in unwilling fear, Harry could sense Beaulindha’s sadness, and couldn’t help but to turn and reassure her.

The adults all lowered their wands as the students all clamoured to assure them that the basilisk was completely safe. Hagrid was unable to prevent himself from hurrying forward though. He wrapped Harry up in his arms, yet unable to tear his gaze away from the snake.

“Thank goodness yer alroight, Harry. But by my life, a basilisk!” He said excitedly. Harry joined him as, like a gleeful child, he couldn’t help but go up to her to have a better look. He offered up his large hand to her chin, as he knew what sort of contact Ashe enjoyed, and Beaulindha could hardly help but croon at the the positive reception. As they did so, they listened in the background as everyone took turns explaining the course of events to Dumbledore and Sirius, about Beaulindha, and so on.

“I was ‘bout ter be very annoyed with you for comin’ down ‘ere without tellin’ us, y’know.” Hagrid said. “Guess Ah’m glad ta hear ya didn’t.” He ruffled Harry’s hair for good measure.

Then Dumbledore came to them. He made a minor, respectful bow to Beaulindha, and hissed at her. She could only looking at him confusingly, as Harry explained that he was trying to speak parseltongue. She was impressed he’d made the effort, at least.

The Headmaster watched her curiously as he spoke to Harry. “I was hoping you could explain more about the nature of her gaze, and why she is not hostile to us. Being the only speaker of snakes here, you probably have more detail than your friends.”

Harry earnestly explained everything he could. Beaulindha listened intently, making minor corrections where necessary. Dumbledore listened intently, fascinated, as Sirius came by and eavesdropped too, as Harry continued the story…

  
  


**CHAPTER 19**

In the crisp morning air, Ashe nuzzled Harry’s air, tickling him with her forked tongue to encourage him to wake up. He moaned, rolling over, shoving her away. He vaguely heard her slithering away across the floor as he began drifting off again…

“Hey, get up, Harry!” The voice of Neville rudely sounded, thought Harry, as the duvet was dragged off of him.

“Hey…” He moaned blearily.

“You can sleep later if you really have to!” Ron called. Harry could hear them getting dressed.

He figured knowing the train was coming had filled them with more excitement than himself, explaining their comparatively awake state; they’d all stayed up late last night…

~~~

Leaving the cloak behind as it would never fit them all, Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione all slunk out past curfew, in the dead of night. Having overheard their ruminations, however, Fred and George and kindly allowed them to borrow a map that showed the whereabouts of everyone in the school, so that they could get where they needed to safely.

Recognising the names, a flabbergasted Harry had opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to say.

“Oh, we know who made it.” George had said, proudly.

“Told us so himself!” Said Fred.

With the map in hand, it was easy to take the longer route to avoid Filch and Mrs Norris, and reach the entrance to the kitchens. As they saw him Draco draw near to them, they opened the painting and all slunk inside. An excited motley of elves greeted them, and they were surprised to see several other groups of students already here, many with mixed house members, all at little makeshift tables; playing games, eating food, drinking drinks. None of them paid them much mind.

Among the elves that were serving was the older elf Wilby. Harry, recognising him, called out to him and he promptly made his way over. With a polite greeting, Harry asked what was going on.

“We get many students here for the end of year feast. That is to say, those that are not normally able to feast together due to their differing houses. Or some who are simply still hungry…” The old elf chuckled to himself. “Find yourselves a spot to sit and be merry!” He said, before continuing on to whatever task he had intended.

Ron, quickly surveying the room, pointed out an appropriately sized bench. Harry told them he’d catch up to them as he split off, to say hello to Kreacher. He supposed there wasn’t the same urgency to do so as he’d be staying here anyway, but nonetheless he thought it would be rude not to.

Asking a couple of elves, Harry quickly found Kreacher, who seemed to be having rather too good of a time with a disturbingly large meat cleaver. With another thwack into the chopping board, embedding it firmly, Kreacher turned to face Harry.

“Greetings, young master.” He bowed deeply. “How can old Kreacher be serving you?”

“Oh, nothing Kreacher. I just wanted to say hi, make sure you’re alright.”

Kreacher looked at his work on the chopping board. “Kreacher is finding jobs he enjoys doing.” The elf said, with the faintest trace of a smirk.

Harry smiled, pleased. “You do seem in better spirits lately.”

“Indeed, master; the Headmaster…” Kreacher leaned in conspiratorially, whispering “The Headmaster is finding another of the Dark Lord’s treasures, Kreacher is being of willing service for this cause.”

Harry did not understand the significance of these objects, only that they somehow factored in to the evil Tom Riddle had perpetrated over the years. Kreacher had informed him before that Dumbledore had to hold off on destruction of the locket, but that he would be able to when the time came.

Considering that not even Sirius, who did know about the locket, did not know much about it’s true nature from Dumbledore, Harry wondered if he even wanted to know what it was; Dumbledore must have good reason not to say so.

“That’s great, Kreacher. I’m sure Regulus would be pleased.” Harry said, making the assumption that Regulus would approve of any action that was against those of Riddle, having sacrificed himself for the sake of the locket alone.

It was a bit of an odd expression, but Kreacher did smile at Harry then. Shortly thereafter, the shouts and demands of busy elves interrupted him.

“Yes, yes!” Kreacher complained in turn with a mock beligerrance. “I must continue my work, master, if you have no further requirements of Kreacher?”

“No, Kreacher!” Harry laughed. “Have fun chopping!”

Kreacher grinned as he took up the huge cleaver and got back to work. Harry caught up with his friends who had found a table and had some small flagons of butterbeer already set out for them.

“...not really surprising after all that there’s so many others here.” Ron was saying. “That we’re not the only ones who wanted our own little feast.” Ron said, answering Harry’s questioning glance as he took his spot.

Neville took out his wand,  _ his _ wand, and admired it. “I didn’t expect my first year to be anything like this. What about you guys?”

Ron shrugged. “Eh, I kinda knew what I was getting into, family and all. Still, there was a few surprises, such as nearly getting sorted into Slytherin!”

Draco’s jaw dropped, and everyone laughed at him.

“I bet you were considered for Ravenclaw, were I to guess?”

Shutting his mouth, Draco answered “Oh, yeah, I was. Thought I’d better stick with my dad’s house though…”

“‘Spose you can get resorted if you want, but it doesn’t matter that much, long as you’re happy with yourself.” Ron said, wisely, sensing Draco’s insecurity. Draco remained silent, unsure.

“Well, I didn’t know what to expect at all, being the only muggleborn here.” Said Hermione. “Though I  _ am _ surprised I’m not behind everyone else in my studies.”

“I think your work ethic alone speaks to that, Granger.” Said Draco. “Probably a lot of the muggleborns, come to think of it. You all know you need to catch up, and all the wizard family students treat all this as much more…”

“Normal?” Neville finished for him. Draco nodded, confirming it.

Swilling his butterbeer, enjoying the rich flavour, Harry spoke up. “I’m just glad I was able to make some real, good friends. Never really had any before this year.” He glared at Draco. “Didn’t necessarily intend to make any  _ enemies _ though.” That got some giggles from everyone, except Draco, until Ron clapped him about the shoulder to prove the point it was in jest.

“Me too.” Said Neville. “And you can tell your dad thanks again for the wand. I’m sure he spoke to gran about that. I kind of miss her, actually…” He said, wistful.

“I can’t imagine being away from my family for so long.” Harry said. “I bet you’re all looking forward to seeing them again for the summer.” Everyone noisily agreed, and they all shared their excitement of telling their families all about their first year, their new friends, and all the amazing things that had happened.

Though Draco was less sure, they all hoped they could see each other sometime over the holidays after they’d gotten home. Except Harry, who laughed as he pointed out how they’d probably spent enough time at his home already with his family. But either way, they were excited for both the summer, and the next year of Hogwarts together. As it was, they continued to enjoy the food and drink, and melted away into the atmosphere of merriment that was present that night, tucked away in the Hogwarts kitchens.

~~~

There wasn’t time for breakfast, hence the feast last night, as the students were ushered out to get to the train on time; since it was close to Hogwarts, the elves could make sure there as plenty of food aboard the train for the return trip to King’s Cross Station. Harry had to rather quickly say goodbye to his friends as they made their way onboard, as they found a compartment together and waved at him through the window. The bright red train whistled loudly once again, as the engine began chugging and it made its way away, down the railway line.

It was an odd moment. Harry was suddenly stood alone, in the cool, quiet morning air, as the sounds of the train became dim and muffled as it sped away. He suddenly felt quite lonely; the school was empty once again, and Harry was the one child left behind. It had never bothered him like this before.

A large hand firmly grasped his shoulder, and Harry leant into it, find it reassuring.

“Yeh alroigh’?” His dad asked.

Harry smiled up at him, nodding. “It just… feels weird.” He said, uncertainly.

Hagrid nodded knowingly. “It’s natural to miss ‘em, Harry. But it won’ be long, an’ Oi’m sure you can visit ‘em if yeh like during the summer.” He knelt down, bringing himself level with Harry. “I missed  _ you _ a whole lot, y’know.”

Realising he felt the same, Harry grabbed him in a great hug, which his dad returned.

He might miss his friends, but it was good to be home too.

~~~

As they made their way back to the familiar hut, enjoying the gentle morning sunshine, Harry saw that Tenebrus was sunning himself in front of it, laying down with wings outstretched to catch the rays.

Hagrid chuckled as they trotted over to him. “Think ‘e’s missed yeh an’ all.” He said. Knowing that Harry would probably want to say hello, he pulled out a dead rat from inside his robes and passed it to Harry. “Oi got some stuff ter do in the garden if yer need me.” He said, walking past Tenebrus to inspect the current state of the vegetable plots.

Seeing Harry, Tenebrus leisurely got up and stretched, before trotting forward to meet him. He pushed his nose in for a scritch.

“Hey, I’ve missed you too!” Harry said, seeing how eager Tenebrus was for some attention. He offered him up the dead rat, which Tenebrus took from him gingerly, before shuffling round and reaching up to give his withers some attention. Tenebrus stuck his front legs out, bending down, and crooned.

Turning his nose around as Harry finished, Tenebrus sniffed him with interest, watching him intently.

Harry suddenly jogged away, Tenebrus following at a trot, nosing him in the back as Harry laughed, and a grey owl descended behind them to the hut.

~~~

Sitting back in his chair, Harry looked round the table at his family, as they all finished up their lunches together. His dad, had the same stew as himself, though the bowl he ate from ws easily three times the size of his own. Fang was gnawing on the bony remains of the haunch of beef he’d been given. And Ashe, for the sake of inclusion, had been given only the tail of a salamander, as she had eaten a whole one not too many days before.

As he lowered his spoon back into his bowl, Hagrid suddenly let it go. “Oh, Harry!” He said, waving a note from his pocket. “Sorry, jus’ ‘membered: Dumbledore wants ter borrow yer.”

“Why?” He asked.

“He says he needs yer help talking to that basilisk-”

“Beaulindha.”

“Roight. After lunch, he said, so I ‘spect-”

A gentle knocking rapped on the door, interrupting him.

“Come in!” Hagrid called out. “Knew it.” He muttered under his breath. “Always arrive yet when yer expected to!” Hagrid said, as Dumbledore allowed himself in.

The Headmaster chuckled amusedly. “Indeed that is the intention, Hagrid. Please, don’t rush on my account!” He said, as Harry tipped up his bowl and drank what little was left at the bottom, before getting up and coming over to him.

“I was finished anyway, sir!” Harry said, evidently eager to get going; he hadn’t had a chance to revisit the chamber, and Beaulindha, since the first time.

~~~

After bidding goodbye to his dad, Harry and the Headmaster made their way up to the school, through the corridors to the girls’ bathroom on the 2nd floor. Prompted by Harry’s questioning, Dumbledore explained that Voldemort had left behind a number of cursed objects not unlike the one Harry had instructed Kreacher to present to himself, and that it was possible Beaulindha may be a lead to find more.

“If there  _ are _ more of those things, I sure hope you can get rid of them, Headmaster.” Harry had said. “What would happen if I had touched that locket?”

“I thought it wise not to do so myself, so I can’t be entirely sure. Nothing good, I suspect.”

“I didn’t even see it and I felt like it wanted me to pick it up.”

Only the subtlest flick of his eyes reveal that Dumbledore had noticed something about what Harry said. “It made you feel like that, did it? I’m not sure I felt the same way, what do you mean?” He inquired.

Harry was quiet a moment as they walked. “I don’t like thinking about it, it makes me feel guilty. I felt like… it was the most important, previous treasure. I wanted it for myself, to take it. Like it should be mine…”

The Headmaster raised his eyebrows in concern.

Seeing the worried look on his face, Harry spluttered out “B-but I wasn’t myself, Headmaster! I don’t really feel that way, now. It just… did something to me. I didn’t like it at all. No wonder Kreacher is so-”

“Foul-mannered? He does seem to be better in its absence.” Dumbledore carefully changed the topic.

“Yes, he does, doesn’t he? He was even nearly cheerful when I saw him last…” Harry went quiet.

“Oh, last night?” Dumbledore said. Harry looked at him, with surprise and worry. “Ah, no Harry!” He laughed. “It is little secret to myself that there is a little tradition amongst some of the students. It is of little harm, really!”

Shortly after that they reached the bathroom. Gliding out from her stall, Myrtle emerged to see what the cause was of the footsteps, seeing as school was closed for the summer.

“I hope you don’t mind the intrusion, Myrtle. Business in the chamber again, you see.” The Headmaster said, inclining his head politely. Myrtle didn’t exactly looked thrilled by that.

Harry guessed what she was thinking. “Beaulindha never wanted to hurt you, you know. She feels ever so sad about it. The, uh, basilisk.” Harry clarified, seeing the look of confusion on Myrtle’s face.

“Oh. Right. Well, if it’s all the same to you, I think I shall stay here…” She drifted away back into the stall, disappearing somewhere or other.

“Maybe another time when she’s more used to the idea, hm?” Dumbledore suggested, as he bid for Harry to permit entrance to the chamber.

~~~

This time, Beaulindha emerged calmly and without aggression. She seemed pleased to have someone to speak with once again. Dumbledore watched and listened intently as she and Harry engaged in idle and polite chatter, yet frustrated that he was unable to participate himself.

“ _ So, what purpose drives you here, hm? _ ” Beaulindha asked, getting to the point.

The Headmaster stepped forward, slipping out of his robes a small wooden box, and several crystal glass vials lashed together. “As well as taking some venom for Professor Snape’s and my own studies, I wish to show her the cursed locket, Harry. If you would explain, then you may wish to take a few steps back.”

Harry relayed the information, then nervously moved away. After Beaulindha had expelled some venom for the Headmaster, he opened the box and showed it to her; evidently the box the Headmaster was now keeping it in was hiding the effect of it.

Looking down and tasting the air as Dumbledore opened the secure little box, Beaulindha began to hiss angrily, glaring at the locket and the Headmaster. Dumbledore, unable to keep a small tinge of a small from his face, promptly locked the box up again. Harry felt relief as the influence of the wretched thing promptly went away. He shivered, and came back, trying to calm an angry Beaulindha down.

“ _Why am I presented with that awful thing?_ _Is Tom Riddle not good and dead?_ ” She asked, angrily.

“ _ Yes, but Headmaster Dumbledore says he left a few of these cursed objects lying around, and wants to destroy them. _ ” Harry explained. He turned to Dumbledore, as Beaulindha simmered behind him.

“We need to find more of these to get rid of them. I had a small hope Beaulindha might know of the whereabouts of more of them.” He explained.

Harry relayed the information. This seemed to calm her down. Her coils loosened out again as she relaxed.

Either these things, and Tom, had just been that horrible, or Beaulindha was just overemotional, having been stuck down here for so long. Or being so big made it  _ seem _ that way…

“ _ After he  _ used _ me to help him murder the girl, Riddle used the effect her death had on him in some sort of ritual, in which he imbued his diary with dark, evil magic. Truly foul. _ ” She spat, seemingly in disgust at whatever he’d done.

Harry was about to pass that information on, when he thought to ask “ _ Do you know where it is, then? _ ”

Beaulindha shook her great head, but then said “ _ I’m afraid that my only suggestion is that, since he was aware of the Room of Requirement, that he hid it there. He seemed to believe that it was known to him and to him alone at the time of his tutelage here.” _

Passing the information on, Dumbledore stroked his beard with interest. “Room of Requirement? She seems to be right, even I am not aware of such a room. Can you ask her where, and what, it is?”

“ _ It is on the seventh floor of the castle, _ ” She said, after Harry had asked her, “ _ There is a wall which will not bear paintings or any other hangings; you must tread past thrice, whilst ruminating upon what it is you need. _ ”

“ _ The four founders worked together to enchant the one room of the castle, which will provide that which the inhabitants truly find need of. I believe the knowledge was passed on to later Headmasters and tutors of Hogwarts, so that they may improve the room… I do not know how it had been forgotten since. _ ”

~~~

Thanking her profusely, and suggesting that at sometime in the future she may venture out and explore the castle and grounds when the faculty were appropriately up to speed, Dumbledore and Harry left in search of the room. Dumbledore did not need Harry to accompany him, but curiosity piqued, Harry was quite keen to join him in searching for it.

There was indeed a wall up on the seventh floor that no one, not even Filch, had ever successfully put a painting up on. A couple of times new paintings and displays had been attempted to be mounted on the wall, but always unsuccessfully. The wall always seemed to reject them, nails and screws simply not going in or dropping out, and sticking charms not sticking at all.

The pair of wizards were about to find out why.

Dumbledore stopped short before the wall, and Harry with him. “Please allow me, Harry. Just to be sure.”

He strode ahead up to the wall, looking at it intently. Then, he paced away to the left. After a few steps, he came back to the right, before turning on his heel and striding in the opposite direction. As he went past again, he stopped, and Harry noticed why. A section of the wall was sinking in, moulding itself, and a few moments later a door was there. It was a rather ordinary door other than that, though.

The Headmaster approached the door and pushed it open, Harry coming up to join him as he peered inside. The room seemed to go on forever, a seemingly endless stack of all sorts of things, junk and valuables alike, spread all across the room, in heaps taller than any man.

As Harry followed them in, Dumbledore suddenly chuckled to himself. “I seem to recall finding a room of chamber pots many years ago that I was never able to find again, when I had an urgent need. To think that I knew this room was here, all along…”

“I would advise you not to stray too far, Harry. We don’t know what’s in here, and based upon my need of the room, another cursed object of Riddle’s should await us in here somewhere.” He thumbed through a selection of very dated school books, the students’ names unfamiliar to him. Harry peered curiously from behind him, as he rifled into a box of assorted sweets and prank items. He took a long gaze at the room at large. “I wonder…. Are these all the things hidden in haste in this room, over the countless years of Hogwarts?”

Harry turned to glance over a few more heaps behind them. An old bookcase, it’s shelves lined with ancient, peculiar muggle magazines. A cage for an animal, lined with nothing but dust. An old but fancy looking broomstick, snapped in twain.

Wandering aimlessly, fascinated by the vast expanse of detritus, Harry looked around for anything that might be of interest. What a trove was here, Harry thought. There could be all sorts of valuable things, lost by those who never knew how to reclaim them. Or perhaps, those that never wanted to, as he walked past a particularly hideous gargoyle.

Suddenly Harry was taken by an urge to go on, in between the stacks. Something precious awaited him, he knew. If he could just find it.

Taking little care to be quiet, he trotted off, turning a corner around an open wardrobe full of fur coats, when he saw before him a small table with an assortment of items. Standing above the other objects was a stone head, bearing a beautiful women’s crown of silver and sapphire. It had beckoned him, Harry knew. It had been waiting for him. He could scarcely wait to-

“Harry!” Came the loud, firm cry of the Headmaster, from right behind him. Startled, Harry spun around. He’d meant to stay near the Headmaster, and yet, where was he? He turned again, the strange crown suddenly looking rather less beautiful as he recognised the feeling that had brought him here. He stepped back into the Headmasters’ comforting hands on his shoulders. He looked up, seeing the wide eyes of the Headmaster, who stared at the crown intently.

The Headmaster, gently keeping Harry at bay with a palm, stepped forwards to inspect the crown closer, wand at the ready. “Is that one of them, sir?” Harry asked, despite already knowing the answer.

“Yes, but not only that…” He said reverently, as he gently lifted the crown from its mount with a levitation charm. “If my suspicion is correct, this could be the lost diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw.”

Harry gasped in shock.

“Indeed.” Dumbledore agreed. “If you would be so kind as to lead the way out, I think this needs sequestering away safely as soon as possible.”

~~~

Having parted ways with Dumbledore, Harry had made his way back home. Tenebrus had once again been stood to meet him, and they greeted each other pleasantly, but Harry really wanted to get indoors and sit down. Sensing his upset, his dad promptly got to work fixing together a warm mug of hot cocoa (with a tiny slip of firewhisky), as Ashe sat upon Harry’s lap, having flumped himself into his dad’s armchair. Soon enough, his dad passed him a nice, big mug of warm cocoa, the whiff of it cheering Harry up.

“What’s the matter, then?” He asked, pulling up a stool to sit by Harry.

“Remember the locket that Kreacher gave Dumbledore?” Harry said. “It’s cursed, but it did something to me. Makes me lose my head. Dumbledore’s looking for other cursed things of  _ his _ , and it did the same thing to me again; we found another one, at Beaulindha’s direction.”

Hagrid hmed, not really sure what to make of all this. Dumbledore had mentioned that Harry had encouraged Kreacher to come forward with the locket, which was how Sirius knew about Regulus. “Yer didn’ mention this before, though.”

Harry shrugged. “Well, I sort of forgot. But this one was even worse, I think. If it wasn’t for Dumbledore, I might have touched. Definitely would’ve touched it.” Harry corrected.

Sighing, Hagrid said “It is a powerful object the Dark Lord made, is it really surprisin’ it affects you more than Dumbledore? Is that what’s bothering you?”

Harry sulked a moment, not entirely sure. He supposed that was fair, but was that the exact reason he was upset? He thought about it some more.

“I don’t know.” He said in the end, exasperated. “It’s not because I’m destined to be a dark wizard, is it?” He said, stressed.

His dad gave him a knowing look that made Harry feel very stupid, very quickly. “Maybe the nasty thing has jus’ left yer feelin’ poorly. You just stay comfortable, alroight? Give it time.” He leaned in and gave Harry a gentle, but firm hug. Harry returned it, feeling lighter as they released one another.

~~~

Down in his potions laboratory, late in the evening, Professor Snape was finishing up a missive of correspondence he’d been having with St. Mungos when he felt that Dumbledore had appeared in the doorway, as he was wont to do.

“Ah, Headmaster,” He said, for once pleasantly excited to have someone to share his work with as it got to a truly promising stage. “My experiments are increasingly fruitful, and St. Mungos seems keen to get some initial patient treatment going-” He turned around, stopping mid sentence upon seeing the Headmasters’ less than usually jovial expression. “What is the matter, Albus?” He asked, concerned.

Albus sighed, stepping into the darkened room, idly putting down some of the vials he’d collected. Severus was instantly intrigued, but it seemed it would have to wait.

“With Harry’s and Beaulindha’s help, we found the third horcrux we needed.” He told him.

Severus folded his arms, silently waiting for the bad news that was obviously coming. “Well, what’s the bad news, then? Isn’t this what we’ve been working towards?”

Albus sighed. “It is only a theory, a hunch, but I dearly hope it is not true. I need you to accompany me to Tom, Severus. I need to look into his mind once more.”

\---

Severus waited patiently as the Headmaster delved once more into the cold, twisted mind of the ‘dead’ Dark Lord.

It was singularly frustrating that Albus was being so miserable, they should be pleased to finally have the opportunity to be finally rid of their enemy. Albus had, several months prior, succeeded in finally finding the old Gaunt property that they suspected was a likely spot for a horcrux, seeing as the Dark Lord had seemingly made the place unplottable, thus resulting in a wild goose chase of delving into the memories of people to try to narrow down where it might be.

When Albus was finally able to make entry to the former home of Riddle’s matriarchal ancestry, it was a damn good thing Severus had insisted he not venture out alone. Damn old fool and almost just put on the ring they found, an heirloom that they recognised from some memories Albus had managed to pull together. Obviously due to the way it was hidden beneath layers of charms and curses within the shack the Gaunts had called home, it was the horcrux they sought. Albus couldn’t seem to explain why he’d tried to do something so foolish, prompting Severus to hit him with an especially nasty stinging hex. Or wasn’t willing. Either way, the thing was obviously steeped in dark magic, such that trying to wear the thing would result in nothing good for the poor sod that tried.

So with the Headmaster explaining the discovery of the diadem on their way here, it seemed that the way forward was clear and untarnished. However, he had to wait anxiously for Albus to finish finding whatever it was he was looking for in that foul pit. That did seem to be Albus’ coping mechanism; not divulging his fears until he was certain of their veracity.

He held his nerve as he waited for Albus to finally finish and stand up. His face remained long and drawn, but now uncertain. Like he was too fearful to hope.

“Voldemort didn’t intend to make any more horcruxes at the time he went to Godric’s Hollow, at least that much is clear…” Albus mused openly. “But I have noticed that Harry has a curious, unwilling affinity with both of the horcruxes he has been exposed to, that does not seem to have been shared by the elves, myself, you, or Sirius, to whom I also showed the locket.”

Severus did not like where this was going. He remained silent, not sure he wanted to ask himself.

“It is possible it is merely his youth that makes him susceptible to the…  _ charms _ of such dark magic.” The Headmaster said. “But I fear the possibility that Harry is himself…” He seemed unable to say it.

Severus nodded in understanding, raising a hand to hush the Headmaster.

“Sleep tonight. Perform the triangulation tomorrow morning.”

~~~

It was in much better spirits that Harry awoke the next day, Ashe curled as usual pleasantly upon the bed sheets. He yawned, stretched, and got up. It was a little later than usual, he reasoned. Guess his body knew he hadn’t needed to get up for lessons this morning. He slipped on some pyjamas and approached the door when he heard quiet voices in the next room. His dad he could hear clearest, who sounded the most distressed. The others voices he recognised as Professor Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore. He wondered what they could be talking about? He crept up to the door and placed his 

“...Voldemort’s soul? In  _ Harry? _ ” He heard his dad speaking, obviously concerned, trying his best to keep his voice down. “Are yer sure?”

“I’m afraid so.” Harry heard the Headmaster say. “I performed a complex spell this morning, so that I may locate all of Voldemort’s remaining horcruxes. There is no doubt.” Dumbledore was evidently very upset to convey this news.

“So… so what does this  _ mean? _ ” Harry’s dad urged.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. “It means that, unless Harry dies… we can’t truly be rid of Voldemort.”

Harry hadn’t even realised he was bodily shaking, trembling. He paid little attention to Ashe, who was lacing a few coils around his feet in an effort of assurance; she could obviously hear better than he could, feeling the vibrations of voices through the floor.

“You see, there is a prophecy, only I being aware it’s full contents. I had hoped it was not true, or at least in the way I interpreted it; prophecies are fickle things. But with this news I am most fearful. It is thus:”

“The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies.”

The room was deathly silent after that.

“Voldemort learned only part of this prophecy, and so sought out the one who the prophecy may refer to and in doing so solidified it. I had hoped to only involve Harry in the smallest necessary participation to fulfill the criteria of the prophecy, but knowing this now… I am at a loss.”

Harry had to try desperately hard to remain quiet; he was quite sure this conversation was not intended for his ears. Normally he wouldn’t eavesdrop like this, but he  _ needed _ to know. He heard someone take a couple of steps.

“But at least we have time to figure something out, yes?” He heard Professor Snape say. “The Dark Lord is currently under the effect of my own concoction of living death.”

“Perhaps, but for how long, Severus? The draught of living death was never intended for such long term use. As it is, Voldemort’s mind is not totally blank as it should be under the potion’s effects, and I get the sense his lucidity is gradually increasing; I do not think we can wait indefinitely.”

Harry heard his dad’s frustration. “Yer must be able to figure summat out, though? If anythin’ were to happen to Harry, I…”

“It seems I have little choice, but I just don’t know what I can do. I can only hope I learn more as I deal with the all of the other horcruxes, as some of them would seem to be valuable objects I am reluctant to destroy; I believe I can exorcise the soul piece within them safely and thus destroy it. But if I try something like that on Harry, well, it doesn’t bear thinking about is all I can say.”

As Harry heard some footsteps move about the room, he quickly slunk back from the door to his bed with Ashe following, just in time as he felt the presence of someone opening the door, looking in for a moment, before it closed again gently. He continued to hear voices quietly talking, but Harry remained in bed, at a loss as to what to even think.

~~~

It was some time later that day before his dad had come to wake him up. He put on a pretty good show of acting like everything was normal and fine, but Harry could tell something was off. Harry was sure that, if he wasn’t evidently disturbed by the discussion that morning, he’d notice that Harry wasn’t quite right with himself either.

It was an odd few days that followed. His dad was quite intent on involving Harry with much of what he was up to, to an almost smothering degree; and Harry did like it, and enjoy it. But all the same, he felt a need to spend a good deal of time by himself. Which tended to mean, with animals.

Ashe was a near constant presence, and Harry did not mind, and was rather glad for it. She was easy to talk to, though they hadn’t really talked at all about what they’d overheard those few days ago. And outdoors, Tenebrus had continued to be particularly active; Harry wondered if he’d even spent much time with his own herd the last week. He’d always liked Tenebrus, who was truly his oldest friend (even if a comparatively simple animal), but even so this level of interaction was unusual.

He’d received several owls already from his friends, who sounded like they were having a wonderful time with their families. Ron was showing off his new wand at home, and coaching Ginny for her first year of Hogwarts on what it was like. Hermione was having a marvellous time elucidating her parents (or, Harry reckoned, confusing) all about Hogwarts and magic, though frustrated all the same she was unable to show them any spells yet. Neville also was enjoying having his own wand, having given his gran back his fathers’ wand, but otherwise he seemed happy with how she was treating him so far. Draco’s letter didn’t say as much, though it did say more about his mum than his dad, in terms of being happy to see them. Though he was pleased to receive them all, Harry couldn’t bring himself to reply, certainly not just yet.

Eventually, while he was sat outside on a log near the edge of the forest, Harry truly realised what was really eating him up about it all. Why he had not wanted to say anything; something he’d known ever since, but had instinctually not mentioned, out of fear that speaking of it would make it true. But that was folly, really. He leaned against Tenebrus, who was sat off the side of the log quite content. He looked down to Ashe beside him, as he watched his dad walk off towards the castle for some errand or other.

“ _ I’m… going to have to die, aren’t I? _ ”

Ashe raised her head and regarded Harry, sadly but silently.

Harry felt the tears begin welling in his eyes, and rolling down his cheeks. “ _ I don’t think I’m ready yet. But I guess… _ ”

“ _ I would tell you to not lose hope until the Headmaster returns, _ ” Ashe said “ _ but I don’t think even he himself is convinced, when I listened to their further conversation. _ ”

“ _ Whatever happens, Master- _ ”

“ _ Harry. Please. _ ”

“ _ -Harry. It has been… good to know you. _ ”

“ _ Thanks, Ashe. And you too, you know. I’d be remiss not to let you know. _ ”

~~~

Having made the resolution that his death was imminent, Harry felt oddly lighter. He had a plan of sorts, he supposed. He got around to answering his friends letters and sent owls out to them, borrowed from the school, naturally. He spent more nice time with his dad, doing what he can to cheer him up, even knowing it was fruitless; he did truly want him not to worry for him, however. Really, Harry was happy with everything that had been done for him.

Thinking about it, Harry supposed he should be happy he’d had any life here at all; he figured that ever since Voldemort had tried to kill him, he’d been living on borrowed time since, considering reall by rights he should have died that night.

Knowing that his death would save everyone from Voldemort made Harry feel like some sort of roundabout hero. He almost laughed at himself as he thought it.

Ashe continued to be his secret support, promising to aid him however she could. There wasn’t much Harry asked of her; just her being there as his confidant was enough.

Whilst there was the smallest beacon of hope within him, that Dumbledore would figure something out, Harry saw him little, and what he did see was not promising. Both he and Professor Snape seemed to be absent more often than usual so far during the summer, evidently finishing up collecting the horcruxes and dealing with them. Aside from himself, of course. It was almost funny, wandering around before them, knowing what he was.

He surmised that this was why Beaulindha had initially mistaken him for what must have been a younger Tom Riddle, that used her those many years ago against her will. On that note, Harry made sure to pay her a quiet visit. He made sure he was not followed, using the cloak to get to the girls’ bathroom and making sure Myrtle wasn’t around, before slipping into the chamber.

Harry spent enough time on his own during the summer at this point that he wouldn’t be missed for a couple of hours in the castle.

He made small talk with Beaulindha for a little while, and was genuinely interested; she seemed mostly interested in hearing about what the school was like these days. And from a good, honest student, rather than what little Tom Riddle had to bother saying to her. Before he left, he produced some small vials her had brought with him, telling her that Professor Snape had asked Harry if he could collect a little more for experimenting with; the one time he’d managed to talk to Professor Snape, it was true that he was in fact intending to dabble with its use in unusual restorative potions and remedies. Curiously enough, however, he was currently preoccupied with ‘other affairs’.

As she willingly dispensed a little bit more venom for him, Harry thought to himself how amusing, and fitting, it was that she would, at least in some way, get her revenge against Voldemort after all.

~~~

Unsurprisingly, Harry hadn’t slept very well the last few days.

It had been nearly three weeks since the conversation he’d overheard. Whilst he was still corresponding with his friends, Harry was having to make a point of putting off any attempts of visits, but he was beginning to run short of excuses. Draco had sent an interesting letter a while ago, though; how Draco had stealthily managed to spy a peculiar meeting when Dumbledore, of all people, had turned up at their home. Under some sort of duress, his dad had slipped Dumbledore a very innocuous looking black book. Having been a former death eater, willing or not, it was perhaps unsurprising that one of the horcruxes had ended up with him. It was also quite amusing, however.

Once again, he was awake at some indeterminate point during the night. It was bright out, however, but only owing to the strong moonlight that night; even the stars seemed especially bright. The centaurs would doubtless be active tonight, Harry thought. Maybe Padfoot and Moony were out in the forest somewhere, even; Sirius had been in good spirits all summer so far, evidently oblivious to what was happening under his very nose. Harry certainly wasn’t going to let him know either, he’d definitely take it poorly.

Gently so as not to disturb anyone, he went to his bedroom window and opened it for some fresh air, seeing as he was awake anyway. It was quite beautiful tonight, Harry thought, the gentle illumination bathing everything in a soft glow. He spied Tenebrus sat calmly by. Had he even been sleeping here by the hut?

As he sat and watched the scenery outside, only the gentlest of movements noticeable from a touch of breeze, Harry thought about what Ashe had heard that very evening:   
Dumbledore had eliminated all of the horcruxes. And, crucially, could not apply the same technique to Harry without… consequences.

It had been a very, very tired looking Headmaster that had paid another visit to the hut (curiously, joined by Fawkes), having requested Harry go outdoors for a time so he could have a private chat with his dad. Harry obliged, but first made a trip to his room, opening the window, so that he could slip Ashe in with no one the wiser. So she, with her ability to sense voices through the floorboards, had eavesdropped on his behalf.

It had been a tense conversation; his dad had even got quite angry at one point, that Dumbledore would ask him to give up his son after all this time, or something to that effect. The Headmaster had had to reiterate that he would never ask such a thing, but the discussion just went in circles, however, being that it seemed there was little other solution; Dumbledore said he’d keep trying to find some way around the matter, perhaps a different way of imprisoning Voldemort. As it was, the conversation merely petered out after a while, the Headmaster simply leaving to resume his fruitless studies, and dad being left to stew about what was going to happen.

Ashe came and joined Harry at the window, looking out into the darkness with him. Silently, he decided, that now was the time. Obviously, there was no point trying to say goodbye to anyone; they’d only stop him from doing this. And it didn’t bear thinking about, the alternative: all everyone would do is argue and waste time trying to find an alternative, and then Voldemort would come back - it simply wasn’t worth doing anything else. Going to his lower bedside drawers, he pulled out a vial of Beaulindha’s venom, and a note he’d previously scrawled out. It didn’t need amending, as Dumbledore’s visit was more or less what Harry had been waiting for:

_ Dear Dad, Sirius, and everyone else, _

_ I’m sorry I’ve had to leave you this way. But when I heard I was Tom Riddle’s last horcrux, I knew what had to happen. _

_ I would have told you, but you’d only have stopped me. _

_ But I can be happy and rest easy, knowing that I stopped Voldemort from coming back, ever again. If not now, then it’ll just have been all of you instead. _

_ I don’t know what else to say, so I’ll just say that I love you all, and we’ll meet again soon. Not too soon though, I hope. _

_ I love you so much, dad. Thanks for being my dad. _

_ ~ Harry _

Sniffing quietly, Harry couldn’t help but shed a couple more silent tears onto the parchment. He still didn’t want to do this; he just felt guilty for everyone else, really, rather than himself. Dropping the parchment onto his empty bed, he steeled his resolve, and made for the window, wrapping himself in his invisibility cloak.

Ashe sat on the windowsill, waiting for him. Wordlessly, he merely kissed her on the head. Ashe flicked her tongue against Harry’s nose in turn, and curled up tightly around his arm, before he climbed out of the window and let himself down. It was good not to do this alone, Harry felt, and muttered a quiet thank you.

As he crept away from the hut, intending to find a nice quiet spot in the woods, he heard the gentlest rustle of the grass. Turning, he saw that Tenebrus had gotten up from his spot and begun to follow him. Checking the cloak was still enwrapped about him, Harry moved away, only for the thestral to hasten it’s pace until it was close to Harry.

“You can see me, huh?” Harry whispered, reaching forward to brush Tenebrus’ nose. The thestral merely stood there, gazing at him, only the faintest resistance beneath his hand letting Harry know it was responding to his touch. Shrugging, Harry pulled up his cloak again and continued on, followed at a short distance.

As he was almost out of sight of the hut, Harry turned around for one last look at his home. He’d miss it. All of it. Sighing sadly, he was about to turn away when he saw a faint spot of red moving about on the roof. It appeared to become larger, and Harry squinted in the gloom, struggling to pick it out until he saw that it was a bird.

Dropping the cloak and swirling it to hang on a shoulder, Harry held out his arm. “Fawkes?” He gasped out, surprised. The phoenix alighted almost unnoticeably, crooning in a strangely sad tone. It leaned up over his head and wept. Harry looked up, perplexed, before realising what he was trying to do; Harry allowed the tears to wash against his scar, lifting his hair up for it. It twinged peculiarly, but nothing happened.

“Dumbledore’s been talking to you, hasn’t he.” Harry stated, matter of factly. Fawkes looked back at Harry solemnly. “Thanks for trying, anyway.” He brushed the beautiful plumage gently, smiling despite himself. Lowering his arm to continue on, Fawkes made his way up to Harry’s shoulder. Harry had to be careful not to laugh; where had this entire entourage come from?

Animals always did have a strange sense for these things, Harry supposed. Each friend bolstered him, however.

Harry entered the woods just deeply enough that the castle was out of sight. Trees were all around him, and Harry went to a truly massive stump he knew was here; the great oak it had once belonged to had fallen, but new ones had sprouted many years ago from this base. Harry was now tall enough to sit upon the top of it comfortably; it was as good a spot as any. Harry spent a peaceful moment just sitting there, listening to the soft sounds of the night; his companions ensured he was safe to do so.

Lowering Ashe to his lap, along with the cloak, Harry pulled out the vial of inky black liquid. Basilisk venom, despite being practically unheard of, was still renowned for being among the most lethal magical substances known to wizardkind. Harry was confident this would kill the horcrux in him, if his death alone was not sufficient to be rid of it.

With one last look about him, Harry swiftly yanked the stopper out and drained the vial; who knew how it would taste. He swallowed quickly, before he could begin to register the intense acridity of the stuff. It filled his nose and mouth like smoke, but that hardly mattered as he felt a searing pain in his chest. Fawkes’ crooning did what it could to calm Harry, and Tenebrus came forward, extending his nose and a wing to touch Harry firmly, as Harry lay down. Suddenly the unimaginable pain dissipated, and Harry simply felt… tired.

\---

And then suddenly, he was wide awake, and being urged to move. Pulled upright by Tenebrus’ wing clasped firmly against him, Harry got up and followed him off of the stump.

Before he could contemplate what was going on, he turned around and saw… himself. Seemingly quite dead, laying there on the stump, mouth open and limbs dangling listlessly.

In shock, Harry tried to move back towards it, only to be held back by Tenebrus, who snorted irritably, stamping on the spot, clearly agitated.

Harry could only watch in horror as he could see the hideous black of the basilisk venom continue to appear in veins in his arms and face. Ashe was coiled up sadly, head buried in herself. Fawkes continued to croon sadly, sitting on a nearby branch.

As the darkness crept up the face of his body, Harry watched as it swamped the scar on his head. Harry rubbed his own head, only to find something unexpected: it felt completely smooth. Guess you don’t keep scars as a ghost, Harry thought.

Continuing to watch, seeing as Tenebrus would allow him to do nothing else, black tarred blood began forcing its way out of the scar on his body’s forehead. Squinting, Harry thought he might be able to see some sort of pale, ghostly smoke erupting from it also… or was that his imagination? It was a misty night anyway, especially in this moonlight.

Eventually it stopped, and all was still.

At some point unnoticed by Harry, Fawkes had ceased his warbling. The phoenix stepped forward, as if curious, inspecting his body.

“I’m still here, Fawkes,  _ Ashe! _ ” Harry said, realising he was a ghost still. It wasn’t all bad, he supposed; Myrtle would sure appreciate the company. But they both completely ignored him.

Trying to walk forwards again to get their attention, Harry felt resistance still. This time, though, Tenebrus came with him though, stepping forwards slowly, all the while keeping a wing clasped firmly about him.

As he approached, Harry saw that Fawkes was weeping openly now. He wanted to reassure the bird that it was okay, not to waste tears for him: but it seemed he was unnoticed. Most of the tears, Harry noticed, were dripping down over his body’s scar, down his face and into his mouth. Stepping away, Fawkes regarded the body sadly. Ashe came up at that point, slithering up to the branch Fawkes had stepped back onto, draping a coil over his feet in an attempt at comfort.

It was still again for a brief moment, before it was interrupted by a huff from Tenebrus, who pulled Harry forward with him right up to his own body. It was quite disturbing, honestly, and Harry wasn’t really sure he wanted to get this close.

His resistance, though, was met by agitation from the thestral, who pulled him forward more forcefully, and reached out his snout to touch Harry’s lifeless body as it lay prone.

Harry felt the wing curled behind him begin to tighten, pushing him forwards. He reached out ahead of him to brace himself, fearing he may fall over onto his own-

\---

With sudden whiteness filling his vision, Harry cried out, shrieking with pain. His entire body was burning, on fire - he couldn’t think about anything else.

His breathing was harsh and ragged as it began to ebb away, starting from the tips of his fingers and toes, the pain melted away all through him. As his head began to clear, free from the fog of agony, he realised he was rather uncomfortable. The stump he was laying on was beginning to press into his back in a couple of spots, so he sat up, groggily; he felt as if he’d been asleep for the longest time.

“Harry!” Harry heard suddenly, in the distance from the edge of the forest. The shout was followed by the heavy crashing of vegetation and great, thundering footsteps, which could only mean one thing: his dad was coming.

“No, Harry, no!” He heard him shout, louder as he quickly made his approach. It was rare that his dad was really angry, but he sure could be scary sometimes. Harry was suddenly very anxious about having to explain what he was doing out here.

“Yeh can’t - oh, Harry!” Suddenly, his dad was there. Harry found himself scooped up suddenly, and felt like a small child again. He was pressed firmly against the great, heaving chest; Harry buried himself into it.

“Dad - I-I’m sorry - I h-had to!” Harry said through the sniffles as he began to cry, unable to stop the tears.

Breathing heavily, Hagrid lowered him, looking down at him as he cradled him. His face was a mixture of anger, sadness, and fear, as his dad’s wet eyes beheld him. “W-well, it’s a bloomin’ good thing you didn’t!” He said, exasperated. “Don’t scare me like that!”

Harry was quite perplexed. “But I did. Didn’t I?” He looked up at his dad’s confused face. “I drank a vial basilisk venom, all of it…”

“I thought I died… I  _ did _ die, I was a ghost!” Harry said, twisting about. Hagrid lowered him in confusion. Looking down, Harry picked up the empty vial from the ground, looking at it.

Easing himself down to the stump, Hagrid placed a hand to his heart as he tried to calm down. He looked about, at Fawkes and Ashe watching curiously from their branch, and Tenebrus who he’d all but barged out of the way, standing aside. “Well, if yer  _ were… _ yer not now.” He said, unsure.

Harry looked down at himself, pressing his hands to his body. To the stump. Ashe seemed to be staring at him, as Fawkes crooned softly beside her in a joyful note. “I’m… I’m alive!” Harry said, surprised. “Dad, I’m alive!”

“Ha ha!” Hagrid cheered happily, sweeping Harry up into his arms and twirling him about. “You’re here and alive!”

They cheered and shouted together for a good moment, before Hagrid stopped and put Harry down, calming down.

As he calmed down from the soaring feeling of relief he’d felt, Hagrid did a double take at Harry, looking at the vial he held. “Yer  _ drank _ bloomin’ - basilisk venom? Yer sure?” He said.

“Definitely, it’s gone isn’t it?” Harry said, showing him it, just to be sure.

It was then that, as he looked at Harry in puzzlement, Hagrid frowned at him, curiously. He reached forward and brushed Harry’s hair out of the way. He stared wordlessly.

“What is it, dad?”

“Yer scar, it’s - it’s gone!” Hagrid said.

Harry put up a hand and felt it. Sure enough, it was gone - just like when he’d been dead, a ghost, or whatever he’d been.

Realisation dawned on Harry. “Does this mean the horcrux is gone?”

“I - I hope so.” His dad said, his jubilation tempered by uncertainty. “Hang on a minute -  _ expecto patronum! _ ”

The bright, shining light of his dad’s patronus lit the area, as it took the form of a great, shining dragon, before flying off towards the castle. Looking up at it, Fawkes promptly followed it. Hagrid then took a seat on the stump, pulling Harry up onto his lap, lighting the area with his wand held in his other hand. “Off ter fetch Dumbledore, he should know, right?”

Harry simply leant back into his dad’s chest, feeling restful. Whilst he wasn’t sure he dared to hope, he felt somehow totally confident that he was free of the horcrux. His dad’s arm held around him, reaching up and tussling his hair gently. Down from her branch came Ashe, up to Harry’s shoulders, looking intently into his face.

“ _You’re alive, somehow, Harry! What happened?_ _How?_ ”

“ _ I dunno… ‘m tired… _ ”

It wasn’t long before a ball of flame burst into being before them, Dumbledore dropping to the ground as Fawkes released his upstretched arms, and glided elegantly back to his perch. The anxiety in his face was somewhat offset by his brightly coloured sleepwear. In the light shining from the flames of the phoenix, Hagrid noted that Tenebrus had left at somepoint.

Holding up an arm to hush him, Hagrid indicated that the boy in his arms appeared to have dozed off. Standing gently, keeping him ensconced in his arms, Hagrid stepped forward to Dumbledore, whispering to him. “Long story, but ‘is scar’s gone - does that mean, y’know?”

“What, Hagrid, what?” The Headmaster inquired.

“Is the  _ horcrux _ gone with it?” Hagrid asked, increasingly urgent.

Frowning, Dumbledore inspected the sleeping boy, eyes opening in shock as indeed, the scar was completely absent. No healing spell had touched it before, not even Fawkes’ tears.  _ He shall mark him as his equal _ , he thought to himself. He lightly brushed the smooth patch with his fingertips, murmuring unintelligibly under his breath. He raised his wand in his other hand, continuing to chant something or other. He continued for a minute, moving his wand tip across Harry’s body, brow furrowing until he suddenly stopped. He looked up at Hagrid.

“It seems to be true, it is indeed gone! But, I don’t understand, what, exactly, happened here?” He asked, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Tell the truth, I don’ really know either. Jus’, found a note from Harry, an’...” He looked down at Harry, snoring fitfully as they spoke. “Tell yer what, let’s ask ‘im tomorrow instead. I think we all need ter get a proper rest firs’.”

~~~

It had been strange waking up the next morning for Harry. He felt better rested than he’d been for weeks, when the memories of that night suddenly came flooding back.

What on earth had happened?

It wasn’t long before dad had woke him up with a particularly nice, big breakfast, with a third set aside for the Headmaster who arrived shortly afterwards to join them. They made small talk, which felt strange, before they decided to get to the important matter after they’d finished eating.

Harry tried his best, but it had all been so strange, disjointed, and confusing, it was difficult. Then he was prompted to start at the beginning: what had he overheard, when and how? They were horrified that Harry had picked up what he had, but Dumbledore reluctantly admitted that Harry’s conclusion was not exactly inaccurate either; he really didn’t have any idea what to do other than try to stall Voldemort as long as possible.

Then they moved on to last night. Ashe joined Harry at the table, seeing as she had been there the whole time and was easy to communicate with.

As Harry explained what had happened from his point of view, up until his dad had arrived, Ashe interrupted him to say that at no point had she seen Harry get up as he described. Other than that, Harry had no idea, he just experienced these things happening.

Musing on the matter, Dumbledore could only guess at what had happened in detail, but his leading theory was that Tenebrus had somehow kept Harry’s soul on this side of death, but not as a ghost, which truthfully is something a bit different. But removed from his dead body, and the horcrux, the horcrux no longer had any binding to this world and moved on to the next. And because of Fawkes, Harry was able to recover from the effects of the venom thereafter.

Either way, what had been thought nearly impossible had happened: Harry was free of the horcrux. Dumbledore looked like a phenomenal weight had been lifted from him, as did Harry’s dad, he was pleased to see. Dumbledore bid them good day shortly after, as obviously he had business to attend to as soon as possible. But not without instilling in Harry the importance of keeping the knowledge of Voldemort’s continued survival (though hopefully not for much longer) secret.

“Well,” His dad said, after the Headmaster had left. “If’n yer ask me, I think we owe Tenebrus a nice rabbit, at the very least. Don’t yer think? We’’l have to get Fawkes summat too later, I ‘spose.”

At his dad’s suggestion, Harry joined him in leaving the house, just in time to see the thestral gliding down from over the forest to meet them. And Harry went on to spend the rest of the day with his dad, really enjoying it properly. He supposed he had some letters to write later, too...

~~~

He stood up and backed away, wand at the ready, to Albus’ side, who was also wand in hand. He had scarcely believed the Headmaster when he’d met him right as he returned to his lab post breakfast, only to be told that Harry was miraculously horcrux free? And then Albus had rather cruelly forestalled any further questions by insisting he accompany him to deal with Voldemort as soon as possible, now that all horcruxes were accounted for, and thus Riddle was properly mortal as he should be. Considering the extent of his self modifications through dark magic was difficult to properly assess, thus his resistance to their attempts to keep in contained in the longer term were increasingly uncertain, much to their surprise, it did seem prudent to get this over with.

Albus began to perform the complex exorcism spell that he had used to destroy the horcruxes, without destroying the valuable host items in the process. The effect was not dissimilar to the dementor’s kiss, if it were to be used on a human being. But of course, Albus was the most skilled and powerful wizard of the modern age; if anyone could perform this spell with the accuracy needed for the task at hand, it was he.

Severus himself was not taking part, but it was definitely prudent to have backup on hand, just in case.

It took some time, Albus devoting all of his concentration to the spell; aside from the living target, this was also the main soul of Voldemort, as far as it was actually any different to the ‘fragments’ that had been split off from him.

Eventually, Albus succeeded in forcing wisps of dark, smoky essence away from Quirrell. A strange murmuring was heard as they joined together to form a more solid cloud. When that was complete, it began to writhe in place. Severus heard hissing and snarling inside his mind, and thought he could see a furious face begin to form in the cloud, which was beginning to look more solid, almost like a liquid.

Free hand outstretched and expression taut, the Headmaster finally thrust his wand towards it, crying out “ _ Spiritus perderus! _ ” at the top of his voice.

Severus crumpled to the floor as the angry voice inside his head turned into a mind splitting screech; even Quirrell on the floor twitched involuntarily. Albus stood firm, as a stream of reddish light from his wand burned into the heavy smoky mass.

Cursing himself for his weakness, Severus regained his feet as the wailing began to subside. Within a moment, the room was empty. Panting with effort for only a moment, Albus seemed promptly back to his usual self.

“Severus, if you would administer the antidote for our friend here, before he succumbs.”

Of course, this was the other reason Severus was here; with the extra strong draught he had concocted to contain both Quirrell and Voldemort in a catatonic state, Quirrell would not withstand it for long alone. Collecting himself, he strode forward and swiftly knelt down, pouring a glassy blue fluid into the former-Professor’s mouth.

Knowing he would be more than a bit disorientated, Severus stayed by him and helped him up as he woke up, and supported him as he firmly encouraged him to his feet.

“I see you are with us again, Quirinus.” Albus said, getting his attention. “You will find that it is the summer of 1992, now. And Voldemort is dead; you are now free of his influence.”

As Quirrell rubbed the back of his horribly misshapen head, Severus got the feeling this would take a while…

\---

It took some time, but they sorted Quirinus out. How much the influence of Voldemort had lead Quirinus willingly or not down a dark path, Albus wasn’t completely sure. But he definitely had not been a bad student when he’d been at Hogwarts, nor had he shown any inherently bad tendencies before his unfortunate (or, considering current circumstances, fortunate) run in with Voldemort. Albus had privately, actually been impressed that he’d discovered Voldemort for himself, since it seemed to have been deliberate, for reasons of furthering his own career.

Severus hadn’t been in complete agreement that they should just let Quirinus go, but then it’s not like they could hand him over to the Ministry without it becoming public knowledge that Voldemort had cheated death in the first place; it wasn’t worth it, encouraging dormant death eaters to retaliate or worse, give another dark wizard in the future the idea to try for themselves.

If nothing else, the traumatic experience of hosting Voldemort seemed to have stiffened Quirinus up a bit. It tied nicely into the alibi that he’d had significant mental issues that had required a sabbatical from life in the public eye. Since he was still responsible for Quirinus being indisposed for so many months, Albus decided to make it his duty to keep an eye on Quirinus for the foreseeable, insisting on frequent communication via owl. It also meant that Quirinus would find it more difficult to slip away should he feel more inclined to the dark side of magic that Voldemort doubtless would have shown him in their time together.

With him out of the way, Albus had taken Severus to his office and, over the usual nice cup of warm tea, explained what he knew about Harry. What had happened last night from his perspective, and the discussion that morning.

It was an exhausted Severus who insisted he needed to retire for the night at nary mid afternoon. Albus supposed that was reasonable; he’d heard that Harry was miraculously horcrux free, aided in finally finishing Voldemort once and for all, assisting Quirinus in a quick rehabilitation to return to wizarding society, and finally heard about how Harry had seemingly actually died for a brief moment.

After he’d gone, quite frankly Albus wasn’t sure he was in any mood to leave the office for the rest of today either.

But now that the worry was all over, he summoned down several boxes from his high up hiding spot, turning out the contents onto the table before him. The value of some of the items before him was insurmountable; it would take time to decide what to do with some of them…

~~~

On the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley, the sun was burning bright in the sky; a single white cloud was all that obscured the vast expanse of blue. Five Hogwarts students sat on wicker chairs at a table in the quiet street, in the middle of the summer break. Each was enjoying their extravagantly coloured and flavoured bowls of iced cream, courtesy of Fortescue’s.

It was the first time Harry, Neville, Ron, Hermione, and Draco had got together since the start of summer. Ashe was, as usual, draped about Harry’s shoulders, partially coiled upon his head, enjoying the strong sunshine. Neville also proudly displayed his new tollisdia plant, a magical plant that required minimal care and tolerated an array of climates; it now lived about his person, currently poking out from a chest pocket.

The conversation had lulled, all sat back simply enjoying the desserts. Harry, having sworn them all to the utmost secrecy, had briefly explained why he’d been so stand offish in his letters to them that summer. They’d all been quietly horrified, but relieved to know that things were all settled down now. Draco still looked a bit disturbed though; the realisation that the seemingly plain book Albus Dumbledore had confiscated from his dad had actually been what it was.

Following on from that, Harry had shared how the Headmaster had given Harry Slytherin’s locket, now untainted by Riddle’s foul magic. It had no magical powers of its own, merely being a curio owned by a famous wizard of history. Harry had tried giving it to Kreacher, who was ecstatic to find it was horcrux-free. Ecstatic was an odd thing to see on Kreacher. He hadn’t wanted it for himself, though, possessing other objects that had actually belonged to Regulus himself. In the end, Harry had taken it down to the chamber, where Beaulindha had recognised it and been happy to receive it. Professor Dumbledore was going to come down soon and see if he can recreate the photos it formerly bore from Beaulindha’s memories of it. And that was only the start of the history she had to impart to the modern wizarding world.

As he enjoyed the cherry pie flavouring of his ice cream, Harry carefully listened to all the adults in the background, just about able to make out a few words; they were all having their own space for a chat, too. His dad, Ron’s parents, Arthur and Molly, Hermione’s muggle parents (Harry was frustrated at having forgotten their names), Neville’s grandmother, Augusta, and Draco’s mother, Narcissa. Narcissa looked mildly uncomfortable, Harry thought, but Molly seemed to be making a good effort to include her, their fondness for their own children seeming to be enough of a shared sentiment to bridge the gap.

“Oh yeah!” Neville suddenly said. “My mum said my name today!”

“That’s wonderful, Neville!” Hermione said, pleased for him, as everyone shared their congratulations for Neville.

“Mum and dad… they both had their first dose of a newly made potion last night.” Neville explained. “Gran wasn’t sure for a while, but the mediwizards convinced her that it was worth a try. They can only get better, right? Even dad looked at me, and I’m not sure he ever has on purpose before.”

Neville struggled to talk about his parents much, but such excitement seemed to have loosened his tongue on the subject. But it sounded promising, all the same.

“Maybe someday you can show them some of your spells?” Hermione said encouragingly. “It was great to be able to show mine today, having come here!”

“Wonder what that’s like, showing your parents your magic for the first time. I was always allowed to try spells at home, even before I came to Hogwarts.” Draco said. “Must be a curious life you lead, Granger.”

She smiled a devilish smile. “Perhaps soon you can come to my house, with no magic, and let me make you a cup of tea, and watch my parents cook dinner. Oh, and we can watch the television!”

Everyone laughed at Draco’s perplexed face. “What’s a telly-wotsit?”

Ron sniggered. “A  _ televiscual _ is a-”

Hermione shushed him. “Don’t  _ tell him _ , Ron. Far more fun to let him see firsthand, don’t you think?”

Understanding, Ron tapped his nose, keeping the secret. “Apparently I have the best defence marks of all my family for first year.” Ron said, quietly. “That’s cool, isn’t it?”

“That’s awesome, Ron.” Neville said. “Didn’t think you’d have it in you at the start of the year, that’s for sure.”

Ron smiled, pleased. He supposed working so hard, under duress or not, had paid off. Professor Black sure made it fun, and he hadn’t gone anywhere, either. So much the better. “Was thinking about getting a cat, actually.” He thought out loud; doubtless ‘Scabbers’ was still on his mind.

“Can your family afford one?” Draco asked him, with absolutely none of the malice it would have had last year.

“Well, there’s this one in the shop, Magical Menagerie? Shopkeeper lady might let him go cheap, no one seems to want him. Great lion-looking thing.”

“Oh, was he called Crookshanks?” Hermione asked. Ron nodded.

“Oh, he’s so sweet! Mum and dad still aren’t sure I’m ready, though.”

“I have Fred, George and Percy to help me, I guess.” Ron said. He leaned in to whisper to her. “Wanna share him?”

Sitting up straight in her seat, unable to keep the silly smile from her face, Hermione nodded eagerly, making a zipping motion over her mouth as her eyes flicked to her oblivious parents at the other end of the street.

“Sirius wants to try to get me to be an animagus soon.” Harry said. He got some curious looks, then. “He and my dad were animagi together, so he thinks we should make it a tradition or something. I’m younger than he was, but he reckons I might be clever enough to pull it off anyway. He reckons he can dog Professor McGonagall enough to relent and help, eventually.”

The pun, intended or otherwise, got some laughs from them all.

Harry was yet to tell his friends of how they all had joint ‘special services to the school’ awards for their discovery of the Chamber of Secrets, which would shortly be a new article in the Daily Prophet. Maybe in a moment, as Harry continued enjoying his ice cream in the ensuing lull in conversation.

Harry turned round to look at his dad, tall and animated amongst the crowd of parents. Harry guessed he was talking about Newt’s magizoo plans, having expressed an interest in asking Hermione’s parents how muggle zoos worked on Newt’s behalf, Newt having visited them just the other day. They’d had much to talk about; a strange new power of the thestral, the development of the egg hatched ashwinder.

Harry wondered where he’d be without him. Apparently a muggle aunt, sister of his mother, who hated magic. Shivering at the thought, Harry felt that he couldn’t be happier than to have had his dad, who loved him dearly, and he in turn.

As he pondered the events the next school year would bring, rubbing his strangely smooth forehead as he looked at his friends again, Harry could only imagine it would be even better.


End file.
